Spirit Poems II

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Entering the forest with my jacket and a fragment of a poem,

my spirit is immediately calmed by tree limbs, holding

leaves that dance in the wind, and sparkle

in the sunlight. The presence is pointing

to an opening up high

in the canopy

above the maple trees

a set of wings confirms the sentence,

and I know now the full measure

of a poem born

flying

on its own.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

 

 

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Our Brokenness No Longer Dances

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In the stillness of the forest fog, our brokenness no longer dances,

as we absorb the silence, and the forest accepting

all of our prayers, our captivity is broken.

And our jagged edges

become smooth,

as we hear the hope

of chipmunks playing

in the leaves,

and our spirit breathes 

even more

of our healing.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies