The Prayer Stone

20170628_154233

In search of the prayer stone this morning, there were no ancient sages whispering mystical words from the dark corners of the forest.

And the sun was dull at times, as clouds ceased the calling of flowers, even their strength was diminished. Shadows prevailed.

I closed my eyes, waiting…..and then a glimpse of a word. So I decided to write a poem today…..after all.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Advertisements

In the Spirit of the Mountains

20170628_135215

In the spirit of the mountains we are confident,

having touched the sky, we can reach

now with our own spirits reshaped,

with wings extended

our wordflow

has a stronger heart.

And our poems can live

and breathe on the earth,

and move

in a marvelous way.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Opening Up the Sky

20170916_123027

When I was a boy, my bow was only made of plastic, but I could fire those arrows way up, so far, so far

into the blue that you could not see them anymore, lost

in the clouds until they descended suddenly

deep into the Earth as if an offering

received. Nobody knew

but I was a Crow warrior back then

simply opening up

the sky.

More beginnings.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Day When Thunder Was Born

20160514_175924

Back in the day when thunder was born and lightning let go of the shaking,

we did run with the wolves shoulder to shoulder,

through the forest bending

while the Earth felt our ascending.

Until that day – when violence

entered the world causing

our separation.

Yet some wolves still howl today

lamenting, longing

for their human brothers running.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Coyote

Mister Coyote

In the pre-dawn light of deep blue, Coyote slithered through,

quietly making his way through the underbrush. When he saw the strange human on top of the ridge,

the human was bathed in the first rays of light, Coyote decided to hold his piece, to stay quiet knowing the sky would soon be open

and heaven would be poured out. Because this human had his arms outstretched

face tilted towards the sky, singing, praying, talking to God

all at the same time. Yes, Coyote did slink away back to his burrow.

And when the sky did open, pouring down the rain, Coyote heard the strange human singing

even louder, so Coyote closed eyes and went back to sleep. He knew heaven

was not something to be trifled with.

       

Poetry © Copyright 2018, ancient skies, Image from Vermont Public Radio

The Winter Sun

100_5602

The winter sun follows me now, as I make my way through the woods

waking up the bare limbs, moving slightly with the wind speaking,

whispering true, that shadows never bind us,

and that the cold air

is a strong arm – against the night.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

I Love Who We are at the Lake

100_5582

I love who we are at the lake, you and I

not only do we see the peace so tangible

but our trials, our tears, are washed away

and we can be more of who we truly

are, carrying our souls in

these bodies with

our spirits

so incredibly free.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies