(DA) My statue

In my mind forest, the wilderness retreat in my head, there is a statue. Every so often I stumble upon it in my travels. She appears exactly the same in one of my novels. My characters find the same wonder and comfort in her as I do.

A solo figure; sitting hugging one knee to her chest, her head bowed, I can only call her "Her". Carved of granite the statue is so old, I can't remember why it was commissioned. The plaque that once held her purpose has eroded away. Moss and lichen cling to her clothes and her hair, giving her face extra shadows in the setting sun. Her posture is sad, but the wings at her back wrap around her body and beckon me forward. Despite the age of the statue, the feathered wings are still remarkably detailed. Each feather was meticulously carved in to the stone. The feathers give "Her" warmth, they make her delicate and gentle, despite the rough, cold touch of the granite. 

I can sit at her feet, snuggled between her body and her wings, sheltered from wind, rain and cold. I can fall asleep there, comforted by "Her."

The statue is often a symbol of comfort for my characters, and although I know "her" back story, I still find the same comfort when I run in to her in the retreat of my mind forest. Sometimes, like today, I say hi to her as I continue to walk by, and other days I sit against the statue's base and think and on particularly cold night's I have sought refuge in her arms.

-Brandolyn