Having dispelled the rain from the forest I noticed a slight wind from east and a set wings,
filtering through the trees. I never did see her, but recognized her light, with a tinge of blue.
All she said really was, “Encourage one another, that is how you win…..”
Suddenly there were only wings in my vision, and her blinding light. An angel…..
or was she an eagle after all?
Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
The best thing about mountains, is that our fears cannot hold us,
and the higher we climb, the smaller our problems appear,
while our heartbeats ring in our ears, the wind sings
in the pine trees, and our spirits dance
with the eagles, as they fill
the blue sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
And our wings were never meant for taking us through the flames and the wreckage,
coated with gold, they were meant to give us courage, but only
if we believe, there are eagles in the mirror.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
There was no saddle, as he gently nudged the horse forward – his favorite, the black and white, long mane so graceful. He shifted slightly, as he looked up and in one magnificent motion, they lunged – attacking the hill, the horse snorting his approval.
They aimed for the ridge, passing the pine trees and spruce. The smell overcame his leather. Higher and higher they climbed, with the muscles of the horse rippling, straining, hooves digging into the earth and rock.
And then they were at the top, where the large oak was on fire with yellow and red. And the eagle waited patiently in the oak, as he had promised. But it was the hawk that gently landed on his shoulder, that encouraged him the most.
It was then that the poet knew, he was home again.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies
In the highest mountains our spirits rejoice in the freedom,
and are filled with the encouragement of the wind
while enjoying the fellowship of eagles,
our confidence returns.
May we always remember these moments,
when we are forced into the darkest of valleys.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies
There are times, where we learn and grow, leaving the stream gradually,
our soul longing for the solid earth, the strength of certainty,
the dirt feels right, between our toes.
Still, we want the risk,
the excitement of the waves,
the freedom of the horizon, the unknown,
as an eagle dwells deep within us,
reminding us of past victories.
Growth of new wings, our spirits climbing high,
never looking back, as we look forward
into the rising sun,
realizing finally
we really do have the courage,
and we can make it after all.
Based on an earlier work called Leaving the Stream
Originally posted October 2015
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
And the hearts of eagles do not accept their cages,
even for rehab, scars healing, wings mending, they dream
of flying, of giving honor to the sky.
And when the time is right they are released,
with wings covering us, truly
warriors of the heavens
once again.
Hearts never ceasing – to be courageous.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
As we climb the mountain with the wind in our hair
it’s easy to look back wondering how we got free,
and we can see the past for what it truly was.
As we reach the summit, we can be amazed
at our own strength, capturing the spirit
of the eagle soaring. It’s true
that if we talk to an eagle
we may not get an answer,
but they will often help us
with asking,
the right questions.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
Beyond the river rocks is the flowing
the natural flooding, of inspiration.
I know there is a world
beyond the river
seeing with human eyes
and an eagle heart
trying to fly gently
and strong
at the same time,
praying for a pen
in my talons.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
So when the elders of the people (both men and women)
tell these stories of long ago, they reach back
and bring the colors flowing through eagles,
to life. Usually Grandmothers tell the children
and grandchildren as the people gather
around the fire, that the first storm
was caused by the grey being jealous,
that people came from the sky.
And when there are festivals they paint their faces
with blue and white, reminding them of wingtips
and of course the sky. Little ones listening
many times to the message
“Never forget where you came from.”
“Don’t ever forget.”
“You are descended from eagles.”
Many have survived with these words
hidden in their hearts,
and so it is until this day.
May we never forget.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
Rivers Renewed 