Ghosts Will Reappear

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Within the deep fog of the final days, ghosts will reappear with the smell of buckskin

and burning wood in the air, showing us how to make lodges, and the sacred art

of bow making, giving us the wisdom of medicine, and the harmony

of all things will flow in our veins once again,

so that the deep fog will no longer

need to hide us, anymore.

                                                                                                       

Note: This is part of the Apocalyptic Journal.

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Happy Easter, Happy Passover

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To all those celebrating Easter today – Happy Easter!

And I have a number of Jewish friends so – Happy Passover!

May you be wonderfully blessed during this very special time of year.

And if you don’t celebrate either day, may you also be blessed this spring,

as we all behold the beauty of the earth reborn. May hope live in our hearts.

By the way, did you know that the Last Supper was actually a Passover Seder? It’s true!

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

I Love the Wildness in the Wind

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I love the wildness in the wind, buffeting

as it roars

through the pine trees,

threatening us with snowflakes swirling,

moving the branches of the oak trees

as if to say winter never left

us at all.

I simply smile remembering

the flowers, and the light rain

that washes us,

and the brightness

of the sun that embraces us,

the new life born again, after

the wildness in the wind.

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

It Was Spring Now

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She walked in the green fields now remembering the curves

of her hand in his, and those times he gave her

a wildflower to tuck

behind her ear,

with the smell of trees

and the beautiful deluge

of robin song,

it was spring now

and she dreamt

of smelling his neck

and the protection

of his umbrella

as they discovered the earth

all over again,

walking in the park.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In the Year 2154

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If we are still alive, will it be any better? or will the earth groan under the weight

of our hostility? When the soil is depleted, our food will come from the sea,

 where millions will seek to be washed of their anger, and to return

with a sense of the beginning – to return to being human

once again. Perhaps it is not too late

to start over. At least

we hope and pray so.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Earth Will Remember Us

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And the earth will remember us long after our footprints

have faded, and our world is no more –

paradise lost forever.

      

But in that day, the bees will dance in the forests

and stallions and mares

will run free.

      

And the grass will grow tall again,

as the cement begins to crumble.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

The Earth Rejoiced

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The cultural eyes of the tribe lay dormant until the end was near

each warrior hid their souls, their true selves, until the abomination had ended,

the women kept their secrets hidden, holding them close until the right time.

But once the wars to end all wars had ceased, the people came alive again with joyful hearts,

as they waited for the earth to reclaim her kingdom, it was time they said,

to be alive, and allow their children to be reborn, to live in green meadows,

loving the old ways, and for their people to be a people once more.

All the wars were over now, even the sky called a truce

with the people, and there was freedom

for each one. The earth rejoiced.

           

Note: Influenced by First Nations/Native American writings        

Poetry © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

image from mrwallpaper via google

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

Flower Hill

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On a lonely hill somewhere in the Middle East, two flowers were talking, a father and son. “Papa, why do the humans kill each other?” The father was taken aback by the question, but realized his son was growing up.

“Well son it is difficult to explain, it is like a disease, but it goes deeper than that. You see each human is accountable for the things they do here on this earth, so it is not only a disease but a choice, a wrong choice.” His son thought about this and with a worried look asked, “Papa, will they dig us up to bury the dead?” His father said, “I don’t think so son, we are on this hill, and they use the flat ground mostly.”

His son began weeping, and tears could clearly be seen on his petals. His father bent low, and put a leaf around him, to bring him comfort. His son burst out with, “Papa a woman was killed yesterday because she was in love, and didn’t want to marry the man picked out for her! I don’t want to be here Papa, living in this cruelty!”

His father sighed heavily saying, “I know son, I feel the same way. But just remember the Creator sees everything, and I understand He is very ticked off right now. Terrible storms are coming, and the humans don’t have much time left.” He hesitated sharing more, these were just rumors circulating.

“Then who will rule the world Papa?” His father questioned whether he should continue, but said, “The bees son……you know they are very intelligent!” His son began smiling and said, “I like the bees! We help each other!”

The father was smiling now too and said, “Yes and their world makes a lot more sense…….”

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”