poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
A winged nobility speaks of a poem I once knew,
carries my thoughts beyond
just ripples on the lake,
further even
than a prayer left alone
yet sacred,
and into a measure
of spirit flying, over
the realm of peace
enfolding me
as the heron tilts his head again.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
He picks up his pen a little slower now,
recognizing the brokenness
contains a poem
not so jagged,
and that his light
is easily defused
in the morning fog.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Even in the last days of winter,
in an early spring snow,
the forest will hold on to
our sacred space
a place of meditation
and prayer,
so that our spirits can embrace
the silence,
and be strengthened.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
When our poetry brings healing, our words ascending
we will see the rebirth of our world,
the oneness of a blue sky,
in the lifting of our spirits
as each of us are trusting
in our wings.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Our poems will wait to speak to us, as we hide ourselves away
confident, in luxury condominiums setting up our safety.
But in our living through the storm,
up on the ridge, with our breath taking us
into the wildness of words, where mustangs
fill our minds, and pine trees
are tossed by the wind,
with blizzards that shake loose
our hesitation
blowing through
the fragments
of our hearts,
we become confident
of our survival,
in a place where
our pens run free
and the poetry paints
the wildness
of our spirits.
I will be posting here once in a while. Thank you for reading!
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
The hand of God painting, with a brush filled with snow,
drawing us closer to our healing
within the peace,
within the quiet held by trees
Listen,
what do you hear?
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In every broken wing there is the pain of losing,
grieving over, what we could have done
or who we could’ve become,
and yet within the deepest valleys
rivers make their way through us,
and the healing strengthens
the rest of our journey.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
