The Forgotten Wing

A forgotten wing was her redemption that day, riding the line, too close to despair. She needed the mountains.

She pulled the car over, got out and lifted her hand, wanting to split open the sky….

to see all the stars and suns of the night, to discover the unknown, the whirl

of the earth’s rotation. And maybe even find that lost soul of who she was before.

“Not strong enough just yet.” she said out loud……While she pulled the clouds away, unable to open the blue.

That forgotten wing did encourage her though, and she decided one day she would know who she was,

and she would dance in the galaxies, even in the middle of the day…..

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Strong Hearts Embracing

The stronger heart has embraced surrender

to the power and wholeness of love,

as if each river was a washing

of our eyes restoring

our vision

so that our spirits can truly see

and soar

even beyond

our most devastating of ruins,

confident,

really knowing

all is not lost.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, revised 2020, ancient skies

Keep fighting and stay healthy!

Christmas Flowers

And when he walked in with a bouquet of Christmas flowers,

she wrapped her arms around his neck,

placed her head on his shoulder, grateful 

and they stood there for a long time holding on

silently praying for each other

and for the healing

of our nation.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Yet Within Our Scars

Lying and fear often make difficult lovers

and even worse neighbors,

preferring themselves instead

of another,

so we pull back

our tenderness don’t we?

At least until we feel safe again

we pretend not to care.

Yet within our scars

builds a determination

or something

vaguely seeming to be hope,

so we press forward again,

straight into the wind

and then

we go vote.

Note: Please remember to vote on November 6th. We need to each do our part to help stop the madness, and strife. 

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

The Crow Calls to Awaken Me

The shadow of crow wings fall

on my shoulders

as a grasshopper takes off again,

from the tall grass,

a few more steps and the crow calls

as if to awaken me

looking up I realize

brother sun

is in both our eyes

filling us

with courage. 

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

The Rose of Sharon are So Beautiful

As we pull onto the highway, she falls asleep again, head bobbing. I whisper, “Rest My Love, put your head back.”

She does fall asleep and I wonder, is this because she is awake at night, worrying? Or is it the treatment putting her to sleep?

Changing lanes, I do have a flash of fear, as I think of the magic marker and tape on and around her chest. So much has happened.

Somehow, and I don’t know how, a prayer is lifted up. It’s amazing how prayer is so easy to breathe in now.

As we pull into our neighborhood I whisper, “We’re home sweetheart….” She opens her eyes, and I notice how beautiful the Rose of Sharon are……this time of year.

Note: Thank you to everyone for your positive thoughts and prayers! If you did not know, my wife is fighting cancer again, and we have begun using the first weapon…… in the arsenal.

    

Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

The Journey of Your Light

Don’t bury your pen just yet my brother, my sister

the journey of your light has just begun

and there are still songs

that need to be written,

and still music

in your heart

from the mountains.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

My Sunset Sky

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain

or usher storm, but to add color

to my sunset sky.”

Rabindranath Tagore

   

Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Even on Christmas Day

In my state, the police have blue lights mostly

but they can mix the blue with red,

and the fire department uses only red

but they usually throw in

some white to be seen.

Thank God they are there 

true heroes of America

the men and women

working,

even on Christmas day. 

    

Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Image from unknown artist via google

So Many Words Spoken Over Us

So many words spoken over us, at times unseen

as if they gently rested

on our shoulders, whispering

into our spirits, both

hawks and doves,

so that in our peace we can

pull down every particle of grey

and black smoke

drifting,

creeping in from our ruined history.

Until finally

there is enough glory

to write a poem,

pulled down

from the sky.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies