Hope Begins to Fill My Eyes

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With wings outstretched, tilting my head, then banking to the left I break the pattern, the shell encasing my sky,

refusing the bonds or to live in the darkness of being discouraged… hope begins to fill my eyes,

with new life until finally the horizon comes into view, and I am free.

Amen.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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Shopping for Hats

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I love your rosy lips, your bright smile as you try on different hats My Love,

looking in the mirror, looking to me for a sense of validation.

And if you wear this one My Love, no one will ever see me kissing

your cheek, under the brim.

Yes, you will always be beautiful

to me, with or without

your hat on.

 

Note: My wife wears hats all the time (except at home) because she needs to, having had cancer twice now.

Yet you will not find a more positive, beautiful person.

Two things keep us going as a couple and separately…….our faith in God…… and our love for each other.

Peace.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Roar and Rage of Winter

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He squinted his eyes against another attack by the icy wind. The snow tore sideways now, containing small chips of sleet, he shrunk his neck even further down into his parka,

with one hand holding onto his hat. He was tired of this roar and rage of winter, the daily fight with the wind.

But he was a tough ole guy and on this day he leaned in, lifting up a prayer, thankful that he had a job to go to,

which meant they both had the medical coverage they needed so desperately.

No ugly wind would ever take his wife. He was a tough ole guy still fighting, the roar and rage

of winter.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Survivors

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As I look out over the ocean I do see some dreams just beyond the horizon,

and yet within the storm the reality speaks

we are not always stronger,

all of us, each one of us

are somehow survivors, even

if we don’t know how we got here.

Perhaps the sun on the surface will at least place a smile on our face,

and the sand beneath our feet surging the power of the Earth into us

so that we are able to face the tides once again

with the pushing and pulling

against us,

we continue forward anyway.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies