I died yesterday, when time lost me
I opened my eyes today, but I can’t find myself
The peace of the limitless skies, beckon
My mind, my own
Not yours, not theirs
My home in the sky
I love to fly

THE pen fell from her fingers as she looked up to the sky, through the small opening in the trees, her mind dazed.
“Why do I love to fly?”
The crashed plane lying a little way off on the jungle floor could have answered her question, each poem she wrote always ended with the words ‘I love to fly’, but she couldn’t remember anything. She tore the page and crafting it into a paper plane, she let it fly, the wind taking it up into the trees.

The pages on her small notebook were almost finished as she waited, hoping someone would find her. She was lost in the deep jungle that was like a fortress with its tall trees and thick foliage.
“Where am I?” she wondered. “Will anyone find me?”

Her head was hurting where she had hit it, thrown from the plane when it had crashed, the small craft breaking into two. She had laid unconscious for close to 12 hours, aroused by the sound of loud chattering and a low, deep growl. Her eyes were dazed from the pain in her head, but her senses picked up the scent of danger. She didn’t move, knowing the slightest of movement would spur the jungle cat watching her with hungry eyes, to attack. The monkeys on the treetops watched the scene below with interest, taunting the tiger with their teasing antics until the animal lost its patience and left.

She had sat up grimacing in pain, saying a silent ‘thank you’ to her godsend saviours, the monkeys and looked at the broken plane, mystified. How did that happen and what was she doing here? She had sat with her head in her hands for a few long moments trying to remember, but her mind remained blank.

Three days passed staying in the wreckage with not much to eat and drink, afraid to venture in the jungle in search of something, wary of the wild animals. But on the fourth day, she braved her mind to find a way out because she knew if she stayed there any longer, she would die of thirst and hunger, not sure if anyone was searching for her and if they would find her at all. The sun filtered through the sparse openings in the trees as she walked, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where was home.

“Dear God,” she prayed, “Please help me find my way out, I don’t want to die in this jungle.”
Her feet felt sore as she walked, the half-rotten fruits on the jungle floor and small springs of water staving off the hunger and thirst. At nights, she slept under short trees with low, thick, leafy limbs that covered her body, awakening in the morning to the sounds of the birds and animals, sounds of life that rejuvenated her spirit.

Many days she walked and not a trace did she see of human life. She did not know she had been walking deeper into the jungle where no one had ever ventured. Her body was exhausted, her mind beginning to feel numb and just when she felt she could go no farther, she heard that low, deep growl again.

“Oh no” she moaned as she turned around slowly, knowing this was her end.
“Where are you, dear lord?” she cried in her mind, as the animal advanced on her.

She stepped back slowly, too tired to think of running, when the animal suddenly stopped, its hungry eyes looking past her, baring its deadly teeth menacingly. She turned around slowly to see what had attracted its attention and saw a hunter standing there in rigid posture, his arrow and bow aimed at the predator. She froze, standing there between the hunter and the hunted and as the animal sprung to attack, the hunter took his shot, the arrow piercing its chest.

It was the first time she was so close to experiencing something of that nature, her heart beating wildly and she looked at the hunter standing there, a taut look on his face, his long hair resting on his shoulders, a tall, muscled body. She tried to say something but words died in her throat; the exhaustion, the hunger, and the fear all taking their toll and darkness overcame her. He caught her as she collapsed, moving with the gait of a jungle cat and laying her on the foliage floor, he looked at her concerned and puzzled.

Such a fair and beautiful woman, he had never seen before.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly and lifting her in his arms, he turned and walked into the deep jungle, to his home.
Two search parties on the ground were still days away from finding the crashed plane in the expansive, treacherous jungle. The aerial search had begun since day one after she had made a distress call, then contact was lost.

Arvin, her fiance, heading one of the search parties looked at her photograph on his phone, the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her brown eyes, a deep fear in his heart. He could still feel the goodbye kiss on his lips that afternoon when she left.

She was not supposed to fly that day, but no plane was in the airport base when the emergency call came in that day to airlift a young pregnant mother from the interior to the city hospital. For her, it meant saving two lives, but a freak storm had hit on the way in. She was an excellent pilot but somehow on that fateful day, she had lost control of her plane, pulled into the bosom of the deep jungle, like a magnet.

“Dear god” he prayed for the hundredth time “Please keep her safe and alive, I’m on my way.”
Almost at once he heard a shout from one of the men in the search party, “Sir, we found something.”

He handed Arvin a paper plane that had fallen from one of the trees and as Arvin read the little poem it brought tears to his eyes and he looked up at the heavens, “Thank you, Dear Lord.”
“She’s alive” was the relieved shout that was radioed to the other search party and transmitted to friends and family at home, anxiously awaiting word.