Woman in Forest

Sun-Kissed Maiden

A loving mother spins fairy tales for her daughter, who looks in awed admiration at her mother’s ability to make creative and imaginative stories. The mother’s story about the magical maiden with the mellifluous voice envelops Susanne in a warm blanket of love and safety.

“A breath of fresh air, the winds are said to whistle and blow and if you listen carefully, they whisper a lyrical note. Ever blow your breath in cold air, to find that, what was invisible is now seen? As you draw pictures on your windows and make your mouth the creator of fun, foggy visible clouds?” 


“Yes, mommy tell me more.” This quiet voice from young Susanne emerged as she listened ever so attentively to her mother’s words, her mother’s wise words. Her mother who seemed to know everything, had the most creative answers and appeared so elegantly before her. 


“Okay, my dear Susanne. Would you like me to read you a story before I tuck you into bed?” 

“I’m not tired mommy, but if you want me to lie down and listen some more, I will.” 

“It’s been a long day my dearest Susanne, how about if I come lie with you in bed and read you a story?” 

“Okay, Mommy,” Susanne replied as she got off the floor where she was reclining and listening ever so carefully to her mother’s wise words. 

“What shall I read my dearest Susanne?” 

“Why don’t you just make up a story for me Mommy?” 

“Oh, alright my dearest Susanne, come lie down in bed and I’ll tell you a story.”


Once upon a time, there was a young maiden who knew many things. They said that the maiden’s hair and skin shone like the sun and that she seemed almost to glow with her sun-kissed skin and hair. She was a healer of a small village in a wooded secluded forest, and she enjoyed singing and was said to have the wisest of sayings. One day, the young maiden was walking through the forest and singing songs that were said to awaken the heavens and trees. 


O’ with mine knowledge 

That roams from ‘round the earth 

I must now acknowledge 

The seasons of re-birth 

I lift my voice, this hymn to sing 

For you O’ time, O’ father 

To you O’ Fire to bring 

Good tidings for your daughter 


These notes of sun-kissed light 

I hope are found amongst thine angels 

Thine winged thoughts of delight 

Of whom our heavenly time resembles 


“That sounds so lovely, mommy. Who is she? Who is this maiden?” Susanne looked attentive and eager to hear her mother’s elegant voice and creative stories. She rolled over in bed and gazed upon her mother with admiration and awe. 


“Oh, sweet Susanne. Let me continue the story.” 

“Okay, I can’t wait to hear more,” Susanne said with genuine interest as she snuggled back in bed and gave all her attention to her mother’s magical words. 


The trees began to dance, and the cloud-filled sky let light shine upon the maiden as she continued to walk through this forest of autumnal leaves and ebony birds that perched upon trees, listening entranced to the maiden’s song. Time flew and night began to fall.  As the maiden saw the star-studded sky, she began to hurry down the old trodden path, “Truth be here, truth be known, I myself must hurry home!” She began to hurry through the woods and trees and the trees themselves held time and wind for this here maiden to wander through. She swayed past these darkened woods, she tripped not once on a stone or rock. The wild beasts and wilderness itself were confined by these winds of time. The maiden lifted her voice and began to sing. 


O mystery O wind 

Beasts of the wilderness and trees 

Darkness of these here disciplined 

Time of hardened journeys 


Lost a many come on through 

Sight they cannot find 

A path I ask to now debut 

And to mine feet you bind 


For if the wind begins to blow 

Towards me to the right

Myself I am seen to go 

Where it is found still bright 


On my journey home I go 

I greet the beasts and wilderness 

I myself lost I know 

Just not to this here compass 


The winds began to blow, and her feet danced with them as the path itself did show that she was on her way home. Not a structure nor beast or bear could hold this maiden back from the path that was laid there. 


“Are you still awake?’ Mother looked down upon dearest Susanne, as Susanne drifted off to sleep and the mother looked upon her and covered her with a blanket. She then gazed upon the moon from the window off the balcony and as she whispered goodnight a small visible cloud was formed by the breath of her soul and as she gazed upon it and the moonlight that shines through, she could see a light in the darkness revealed by a wind a cloud and mystery. 

 
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Katrenia G. Busch is an entertainment writer for Heart of Hollywood Magazine. She is a film critic for Hollywood Weekly Magazine. Her publications have appeared in Bloom Magazine, Police Writers, The Screeched Owl, The Trouvaille Review, The Chamber Magazine, IO magazine, Westward Quarterly among others. She serves as a journal reviewer for The American Psychological Association and is a mentor for the Web of Science Academy. She is also a moderator for Facebook Poetry Society yielding over 80k members, she also runs a neighborhood watch for her community.