A singular, and continual movement of the heart
seeking the One being that can bring some hope
into the ruins and chaos of our world.
Who also loves us by the way,
so beautifully.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
A singular, and continual movement of the heart
seeking the One being that can bring some hope
into the ruins and chaos of our world.
Who also loves us by the way,
so beautifully.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
He didn’t feel much like an angel. He hadn’t really lived right when he was alive, and didn’t turn things around for the better, until the end. But something did happen to him before the lights went out, and he started caring about people, started doing some real good in the world.
Then there was the car accident, and now here he was an angel, complete with wings (which he always kept hidden), assigned to the Christmas detail, which was always the toughest assignment.
Originally from Vietnam, Henry Vu had just saved several people from a raging blizzard, and was assigned next, to help Caroline Jenkins and her two daughters, aged 6 and 8 years old. Sgt. Tom Jenkins had just been killed about one month ago, fighting the Taliban, in Afghanistan. His family was devastated. Jessica, who at just 8 years old, was talking of suicide, and 6 year old Jasmine, was in complete despair that she would never see her Daddy again.
Caroline had taken up drinking, which she had never done before, and she was filled with hate now for all people from the Middle East, no matter who they were. Henry Vu sighed heavily as he headed their way. He had seen the whole thing on video sent from the Angel Command Center.
Rather than burst into their living room, as a living light, Henry decided to use some carolers from a local church. Two van loads of people from a church were driving through the area. Henry popped into their van unseen. Sitting invisible next to the driver, Henry whispered into her ear, “Dakota Avenue, we need to go down Dakota Avenue.”
Sure enough it worked! “We need to go down Dakota Avenue”, the driver said. As they pulled up and unloaded, the first house they came to was the Jenkins house. “Let’s sing Silent Night!”, someone said. 19 year old Luke ran up the steps to ring the doorbell, and the group started singing, “Silent Night, Holy night…..”
Inside Caroline was startled, but headed for the door, Jessica and Jasmine ran, yelling, “Who is it Mommy??” Caroline didn’t know who it was, but popped a mint in her mouth to cover the smell of alcohol.
As she opened the door, the music pierced Caroline’s heart with both pain and joy. It was her husband Tom’s favorite Christmas carol. Tears began streaming down her face, Jessica said, “Mommy?” By the middle of the song Caroline broke down, not able to contain the grief any longer. She fell to her knees, weeping loudly.
Henry Vu watched from a rooftop across the street, realizing it was not over yet. The carolers stopped, but as they all prayed quietly, one of their group rushed to Caroline’s side….
To be continued.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2015, 2018, ancient skies
As I drove by the mosque today on the way to vote, I was amazed at the fabric we have become.
Yes we were all there at the polls every faith, shape, size, and color. There was blue hair, green, red, brown and a whole lot of gray.
Even atheists whispered prayers with their pens.
And I wondered about an Asian man, his face told the story of many years,
so many weathered storms held in his wrinkles, in his gray hair. Perhaps
he had escaped from Communist China, traveling by sea, yet here he was today
refusing to be diminished.
His pen having the same value as mine.
I was never so proud to be an American.
Casting my ballot
for hope today.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
At the beginning of our sacred there’s usually
a light-filled lover, or a sunset carrying
revelation gently,
giving us all the answers
before we knew
there were any questions.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
As I was praying in the woods My Love,
I saw your face
and I realized all over again,
the wonderful gift
you are to me.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
No, I don’t worship what has been made
instead the One who made us all,
and yet
I know the oceans,
the mountains, and the rivers,
can fill us
so amazingly.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Well I’ve been blogging for 3 years now and I wanted to say thank you, to all of you!
Every one of you is an amazing artist/photographer/writer! I wish I could follow each one.
And I am so happy with the diversity here. My readers include, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists and those with no particular faith! Yes!
That is the way I have designed it. I want many groups of people to feel welcomed here.
I’m having a wonderful time, in spite of a number of obstacles. So I will keep writing poetry, and viewing your work.
Peace to you, and thank you so much!
Let’s rock!
Writing and Images © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
If we join our hands, and our hearts My Love,
perhaps our world will be
more beautiful when we open our eyes,
and if not, then at least
we will have the strength
to make it through
the storms.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Perhaps My Love, the fire of faith is simply given
to fight against our cold blood, and the cruelty
of this world. As we offer ourselves
as sacrifices for sanity,
and love, burning
as a fire, our heart flame.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Redwing blackbird sitting on a branch, singing
our summer songs, with a little streak
of red, to add some fire
to his prayers.
Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
image from sites PSU via google