Over the Oceans

When we cast our prayers over the oceans, will the waves remember us?

And will the wind be able to cleanse us pushing through our grey

shadows in order to bring the refreshing?

hopefully our words will catch wings ascending

beyond the clouds where our voice

will be heard, and our spirits

lifted. At least

we hope so.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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Faith is the Bird

“Faith is the bird that feels the light when dawn is still dark.”

Rabindranath Tagore         

  

May the wings of faith awaken us

pouring hope

and love

into our hearts.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies, quote originally posted November 2016

It Was in the Oak Leaves

It was in the oak leaves that I found those words

vaguely familiar,

yet strangely beautiful

in their shape holding

so many promises

of another world

so I wondered

if my spirit could form them

very gently

into a poem.

Oak trees are so full

in the summer.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In Our Most Sacred Dreams

In our most sacred dreams

of our victories won

of overwhelming light

we can seldom ascend

by washing ourselves

in rivers of peace,

or through bathing

in a spirit of serenity.

No. More often our scars cry out for revenge

or we find a rare jewel

a priceless emerald

buried deep within

our darkest ruins.

Waiting

to be lifted

into our hope.

Did you know you are the courage

we’ve been looking for?

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies, jewelry by unknown artist

Lingering Psalms

Lingering psalms drifting through the edges of our hearts

in the deep woods, as if the shade brought us

closer to the opening in the sky

to encourage us

as we walk through

and beyond

our limited vision.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies 

A Sky Worth Redeeming

I guess I’ve always known, there is peace

within the light,

a sky worth redeeming,

and even a river

constructed

just for me.

There was a beginning,

hope started to shift

to take shape

somehow –

well, to be honest

I don’t know how…..

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Fig Leaves Brushed My Cheek

Fig leaves brushed my cheek as I made my way

to the river,

having seen the invitation,

I found a oneness

in the sun.

A poem was clearly calling

my name, so I pursued

the words into a meadow –

capturing them, with my pen.

There wasn’t a fight really,

only a surrender.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies