Spirit of the Dunes
by Kate Everson
Copyright 2011 Kate Everson
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I first visited the Dunes on a cold, rainy morning when the sun was barely visible through dense, gray clouds. I walked alone. There was no one else.
The Dunes changed everything.
Or, rather, She did.
She was tall, slim, and held her arms aloft like she commanded the sky. In fact, She only commanded the small, but magical realm of the Dunes, but it was enough. About her lay the sand, in rolling mounds, penetrated by small flowers and tufts of tough grass, shooting upwards, as if they too wanted to rule the sky.
She was the emperor, the Queen of her small but significant domain. She shot straight up into the sky, as if assaulting it in perpetual combat, eager to maintain her supremacy. To me, She was a goddess.
I felt no need to bow to her when I first entered her realm. I walked through the dunes, took my pictures and left. But as I walked away, I felt her watching me. I turned, and there she was, regal, those emperious arms ever skyward, her chin high. She was no fool. She knew I would return.
Of course. I was back the next day. I left my camera behind this time, intent on feeling the space of the dunes. I needed to find out what was really there, beyond the sand. Beyond her.