Soft Walks

My grandmother once told me a tale of the native Americans. She said they were one with the natural world. They skirted it in silence, their footsteps left no track and made no sound. She said they killed even beast with regret. Gentle yet fierce.

Intrigued i began to walk lighter. Every step i took i now consciously picked a spot for my foot to land. I used only the pads. I wanted to be one with nature. By the age of 10 i might as well be full blooded. or at least full blooded for whatever passed in my mind as a native.

I found a special joy in walking in the forests at age 12. Alone i did not need to use my voice. I found i climbed well. No one judged me there. No bruises no beatings.

At age 14 my imagination was kick started. My father told me i am an 8th Native! Oh the wonders! Maybe i am one of these silent men! 

At age 15 i killed my first buck.

By age 16 i was the epitome of silence. I talked often yes but my footsteps were silent even in the dried leaves of fall. I was shadow. I had become what i wanted to become. 

At age 17 i met. She was quiet. She almost never spoke. Never imposed herself. She always walked on her pads. I thought us perfect. She didn't. We did not last long. 

Age 18. I make my way through the house. No matter how i try i can not stop my foot from striking like thunder. I was never what i thought i was.