She arrived at the end of a long journey home to a place she'd dreamed of but never seen before. From the Bridge Street overpass, she saw ahead only freedom, only the love of the land and all things beginning again. In her heart was a hunger for these rolling hills, a thirst for new beginnings and the eagle's cry.
Carrying the imprint of his memory, ever larger than life and elusive as the dancing shadows below, she followed, step by step, along the laddered path to the peaks of a fine and feathered peace that only nature and its essential gifts could restore to her. She thought of all those who had boarded trains on their way to one liberation or the other and of others, like her, who had made their way here to the heart of Liberty.
What does your soul remember? What story of life is alive in you?