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A Safe Place

She knew that it was time for a return to the mountain trails. Kamali, her name of native American heritage meaning "spirit guide", needs the peace that awaits. 
Kamali has lived a tumultuous life. Her refuge has always been solitude. Her silence often misunderstood. Her reticence mistaken as shyness. It is, simply, her nature to listen, observe and learn. Her strength was born of necessity. Walls built to shelter the heart of a child.  She has returned to seek the wisdom of Mother Earth. With each step, she is pulled closer into her embrace. Knowing that when she makes her departure, it will be with a purified heart. As she has played in the crystal waters found here; so is her spirit cleansed by the flow of nature. The return is necessary. The healing, essential.  For Kamali is the keeper of a secret. A secret revealed to few, for she has learned not all are receptive. Always known for her strength, most knowing her quiet nature, how could she reveal the source of the spirit …

My World

entering this shadowed world
alone, not lonely
lost, yet found

many fear to come alone.
many, to come, at all.

She seeks this solitude. For, it isn't nature, that is to be feared.  There are no hidden motives to be wary of here. The rocky precipice, one understands, is to be carefully, crossed. Unlike the jungle of the world, where you're left, never knowing where the danger may lie.  Nature doesn't take. It, only, gives. The gifts, it offers are abundant. Silence heard, in the wind through treetops, is laden with it's spirit. Stillness, found in the movement, of the trembling leaf. The safe haven found in the forest, on the mountain... always welcoming.


Hearing movement through the trees, pathside, she slows to search, seeing nothing. Only a spider, explores the trail with her. She makes her way carefully around it, so as not to disturb it. This creature intends no harm. 

With the setting sun, the forest has dimmed. She pauses beneath a tree to absorb the delicate hues of na…

Spirit of a Warrior

Stepping onto the forest trail, she looks back to see if anyone has noticed her slipping away, into the dusk.  Aiyana knows she is expected to stay in the village, this evening. She is aware of the duties expected of her by the tribe. Too much time has passed, since she had visited the trails of her mountains, alone. 

Her tribe feels the mountains trails are no place for her to be. "Leave the wilderness to the braves. Their strength is better suited for it."  Yet, strength was her destiny. Born to a warrior, a warrior with no sons; she has been allowed to run free. She lives, as she was named, Aiyana, the "ever blossoming".
Always, she had broken the mold, cast for her. The tribe calls her strange. As a child, she was often found in the forest, alone. To find her, they must summons her from the treetops. She would never be a proper squaw. Of this, she was sure. 
As she walks the trail, she looks to her side, where crystal waters flow. Her spirit is mindful of their he…