Canela

Her skin smelled like cinnamon, her eyes a dark golden brown and her warm smile freely given to anyone who crossed her path. She was more than beautiful — she was divine energy in petite human form. Her long, curly dark brown hair as untamed as her spirit and her walk, full of purpose. You’d never know it, but she’d been broken more than a few times and still she refused to withhold her heart from those she encountered. She knew she was strong enough to break a thousand more times if it meant fearlessly living her life while giving people courage to live the same way. Nothing was better than knowing no matter what happened to her, she would always come out stronger. She had a warrior’s spirit and a philosopher’s mind, unbiased in her constant search for wisdom. Faith was her ultimate weapon, for it guided her and strengthened her. Truth, her muse and source of power. She was magical. Her small, pear shaped frame commanded much attention but her words commanded even more. She spoke, wrote and sang with conviction and authenticity; with vulnerability and strength. Words which she used to edify others; to heal the broken; to convey love and emotion as only she could. She was a true artist, finding beauty in even the darkest corners of the earth and seeing through to the deepest parts of the soul. She saw potential instead of failure in those around her because she knew a secret: those who dwelt in darkness were also those who could reign in light, given the right guidance. She was prepared to give that guidance whenever an opportunity presented itself. She was a divinely appointed healer of souls — a shaman, even — leading others deeper into their own spiritual journeys. A prophetess with almond-colored skin that smelled of spicy, sweet cinnamon . . .