Kauai

My feet were always bare upon your surface, an agreement just as warm light under dew remains a marvel. It was you and me, the moment I stepped foot on your path and stretched my back against your sands. When the island sings, there is no separation between its voice and mine. Its vibration runs in the dirt I stand, in the dust I am.

Stars glow pure and clear enough to brighten my heart, now I shine, floating over footprints, over the blue in winds lifting my heels further into a lost paradise, further in the woods, higher on the hills, deeper in the caves. I’m listening.

There is a call down at the base of the volcano, where lies the heart of the sea, every step draws me down wrapping me as easily as being clothed in weaved fibers from gathered foliage. Leafage sustains life, keeps food, drapes shelter, makes brooms and bedding, and walls and warmth, harnesses water.

Under waterfalls, I bathed like Eve and rested in long grasses guarding off the chill. Majestic Magnolias lined the beaches, serving as a second home after coming out of the woods. Months would pass now on the island’s edge, walking the sea when it glides under me, ebb and tide so evident on the cusp of the world.

In low branches, I sleep safely in the sunset, in the sunrise, waking at the first white hue to collect baskets of shells and petals. Waves coo lullabies at dawn, I lay close to the water and observe nothing more sincere than the beginning of a new day.

Emergence shrinks back like a summer’s frost, after down the narrow road, over the fair beaches and visits to the pavilions, a slow stroll through the towns takes me back up to the end of the road. By nightfall, I was at the the Kalalau Trail, back into the Na Pali wilderness, up to my island nest, up to my cocooned hammock on the top of the sky, where I can sink back down in the island’s chest.