Generations

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Future generations will marvel at our survival,

how we walked through the fire,

and made it

to the other side.

    

Note: from the Apocalyptic Journal 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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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

We Still Seek the Colors in Our Light

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There are times our trauma rips open the sky, refusing to listen

to reason, taking our faith along the jagged edge,

with knives ready, yet we still seek the colors

in our light.

Surprised, we are drawn to the rose tattoos, blue

in the hair and loud guitars. Refusing

to accept the despair or another

tired sermon we grasp

the concert lights

and rock on

believing

in the raw power

that we are not alone

and we’re not gonna die

tonight.

Note: These guitars are very loud. Please be careful with the volume. However, I find the words incredibly encouraging and somehow the raw power fits beautifully. By the way, Jen Ledger is one of the best drummers you will find anywhere.

 

Poetry and Photo © Copyright 2018, ancient skies, Emerald jewelry by unknown artist, music by Skillet, fans of Skillet call themselves – panheads!

Praying for Thunder

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In the scorching of our most difficult desert, it is so easy to carry our wounds

and walk away. To leave any fragment of who we are,

whatever gift we once were, and declare that sand

and bones are the only meaning.

Somehow, in our rocks hidden, we decide

to ignore the cycle of living,

believing we are safe.

So where is the rain?

The promise

of flowers living

beyond

our devastation?

    

Perhaps,

we learn to see our spirits

as more than a mirror,

understanding

for the first time

the plight of cactus,

as we lift our eyes

praying for thunder.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

A Poem from the Hospital

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You always did give me light, from far away

as if the earth had not yet

discovered the light of love,

and yet your seasoning

as a warrior, seems

to overwhelm us

both at times,

and I can’t stand

to see your bed empty,

shedding your shadow

even though

you’re just down in X-ray.

   

Note: My wife is in the hospital right now with several health issues, none of them small, and all of them very difficult.

She is the bravest person I have ever met.

We would appreciate your positive thoughts and prayers. Thank you. 

P.S. I will probably post from my archives this week.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies