When every tribe, language, ethnic group and nation,
begins to learn
to respect one another
harming no one,
the Earth will embrace
our survival, teaching us
to be gentle
and the essence
of life. Amen.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Tag: survival
Survival
I was surprised when you produced such a clean set of daggars, even after I told you I was hurting……
but you didn’t care, even thinking it was funny, and yes your death blows were devastating……
but each one cracking, opening up a space for light, to seep through and slowly…..
I could see more clearly. Yes I died every day, but eventually I figured out how to pull my shape back together quickly……..
the fragments, the frozen pieces, and I began refusing your kingdom of abandonment and strangulation……
and I walked away, never running, because to be honest, I’m not scared of you anymore.
Note: I’m fine, and my wife and I are fine. We all go through tragedies of some type, dont we? These feelings are expressing pieces of what it feels like……to survive.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
The Peace Yet Remaining
A storm rolled through the valley today,
as I listened, to the thunder speaking
I was grateful
for the peace yet remaining
in the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
The Earth Would Bring Healing
She squinted through the snowfall, her determination burning once again, in spite of the howling wind.
She had followed the wings of the hawk, and now….was that a cave? They had been led here for sure….”C’mon my love!” she yelled to him, who struggled with each step.
He had saved her so many times, now it was her turn. They knew this was not the time for dying.
Once they collapsed inside the cave, they found it warm and safe. They had survived the ruination, the last of all wars, led by the spirit hawk, surely it was a sign.
The Earth would bring healing. There would be a spring, and hope…..was about to be born.
From the Apocalyptic Journal.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Walk On Spirit, Walk On
Walk on spirit, walk on, past the shadows lingering
from our political ashes
beyond the rhetorical chains
walk on, and run into the safety
of earth and sky, where oceans release
our humanity, and poetry sings
a sweet melody,
into the center of our hearts,
where love is remembered
pulled out, rescued
from the lifeless
museum.
Walk on spirit, walk on.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Our Kingdoms Will Rise Again
The darkest parts of the forest offer a refuge to the wounded
but only long enough to recover, until we are ready for the light.
And our kingdoms will rise again, banners waving,
carrying mercy to those still in the fight.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Laughing at the Hawk
A hawk shifts slightly on one of the highest branches, as he listens
to a mouse below burrowing, through last year’s leaves.
A chipmunk jumps here and there, bolder today
due to the density of the fog,
laughing at the hawk, because
all of the creatures know
there will be no hunting
in the forest, today.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Journey
I was attracted to her red, and lived in her brown, but we didn’t stay there
our spirits quickly took over, with the honoring of each other, we soared
into the blue, embracing the white clouds and beyond. We traded
the golden rings and were bonded. Children, and our lives
were always blessed by the sun. I enjoyed cutting the grass,
living in the green, planting seeds.
Grey began creeping in, and there was a decided attack of black,
the darkest of black. She managed to hold her head above
it, surviving in the grey, thinking I was her rock,
but I was only a shaking leaf, it wasn’t me
it was nothing but mercy that pulled
her out. We lived for a long time
fighting in the grey, sometimes
seeing patches of blue,
and feeling the warmth
of the sun.
And now I enjoy the green again,
cutting the grass, seeing her
spirit soar, even though
some may mock
our trauma.
It doesn’t matter anymore, as we stare
into each other’s eyes, remembering
the golden rings, we traded
so long ago.
The journey – of loving each other.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
Serenade
When you were in the hospital and on death’s doorstep,
there was music playing, as I held your hand
it was not the music of the next life
but the music of this life, of peace
and of not giving in.
I loved how you encouraged the doctors
spoke to the young man, cleaning
your room. Investing hours, treating people
with dignity, you brought light
to everyone that you met
more than a warrior
you were a queen
of hope.
And you sang
softly to me
without even
realizing it.
I was never so proud of you,
and your serenade is forever
etched in my mind.
Note: This is looking back. She is doing very well now.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
After the Storm
In the midst of the storm we receive a new calling
in spite of the ice, in spite of our hatred for the pain
surviving the winds of a hurricane, can teach us
that it’s not about the storm, but it’s about the living
with the occasional bleed, and that all of us are survivors
living through the storm, even when we do not feel
any stronger. We learn to live through
another night, realizing there is green
under the ice, and then we grow
in our compassion, in spite
of the wind of a hurricane.
We are all survivors.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
