The comforting dark of August’s forest made it easy to slip
through to the world unseen,
and I was spirit, as if in a dream,
not of false rainbows but of peace,
an amazing depth
I had never known before,
where silence takes us
beyond bravery
as light flickers
through the trees.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
In our heart of hearts, far beyond any wounded love,
rooted still deep within us
we already know the song,
the shape of melodies flowing,
and the peace, the quiet
that carries us into
a sense
of wholeness.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
More than simply softer flesh, the human heart holding
who we truly are,
a healing balm walking,
even our spirits
within our frames
will know the answers
deep within……this……
is our peace.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
As the autumn quietly abandons the forest,
slipping through the brush
whispering,
the trees become silent now
occasionally entertaining
a ghost
or a few lost leaves.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Our scars sifted through the falling snow
creating
a more tangible breath,
a pause within
a silence surrounding
as we learn the power
the strength
of letting go.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
When winter begins his slow descent
with a low growl through the trees
with a howl in the wind,
we will rebuke him sharply
releasing peace in the snow,
and quiet in our hearts.
Shunning any notion
of an apocalypse.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In the softness of the autumn sun, a quiet returns
to our hearts
an in between, a season
of twilight, of dreaming
where we remember gathering, holding onto,
yet a time of resting
to cease from striving,
even blankets wrapping us
in a feeling of safety, letting go
trusting the arms,
trusting the smile
of our lover
and the smell of apples
bringing wholeness
in the twilight.
We drift off again.
Autumn.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Peaceful shades of light, reflecting, calling forth
our words, shaping lines gently
as if our poem
was pulled from the depths
of our meditation.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In our spirits, the very core of our beings,
lives a special place, a sacred space,
moving us beyond
our tears, our fears,
into the quiet side
of our hearts
where poetry is born.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, revised 2018, ancient skies, originally posted July 2017
“Keep close to nature’s heart….and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain
or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”
John Muir
Our most sacred spaces were never meant to be broken
as if glass could shatter,
becoming even smaller
versions of ourselves,
barely remembering
the wholeness of the forest
and who it was,
that made the Earth.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
