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Owned by Kia

Circle of First Voices

8 members • Free

Circle of First Voices is an Indigenous poetry community offering writing classes and weekly prompts rooted in story, land, and ancestral wisdom.

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7 contributions to Circle of First Voices
Creative Writing prompt of the week
Free write about something that haunts you . It can be a person, place or a thing such as a memory ...
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Welcome to all new memebers
Bian hiabo, wakonabo, abaiawa; wa’duna abaiawa hiabo, wa’baihiabo adali Translation: Greetings all new members , we are honored that you have joined our community. Know that you are welcome and respected in this space feel free to post and reply to this message and any others withing out community.
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Let's write a song ...
Write a song from the perspective of a traveler guided by the zemí spirits—ancestral forces connected to wind, sea, and forest. As the traveler moves through the islands, each natural element speaks in its own rhythm: the ocean offers memory, the ceiba tree offers protection, and the night sky offers prophecy. The song should explore how the traveler learns to listen, to belong, and to carry the voices of the land forward Let's weave in the hummingbird as a messenger between worlds The duho (ceremonial seat) as a symbol of reflection and humility The areíto (communal song-dance) as a heartbeat of unity The rising sun as a reminder of renewal and ancestral presence
0 likes • Jan 29
“Voices of the Zemí” — Arawak‑Inspired Song Verse 1 : Wind‑spirit calls me by the name my elders knew, But the breeze feels thin now, far from the islands’ blue. I walk with the memory of ceiba roots under my feet, Yet the soil here is silent, and the heartbeat is incomplete. Pre‑Chorus: Still the hummingbird circles in dreams I can’t hold, Carrying messages whispered in stories once told. Chorus : Oh zemí, guide me home through the distance and the ache, For my chest is a shoreline the waves can’t reach or break. I am wandering, wandering, carrying the land in my hands, But the pain grows heavy when I’m far from my people’s sands. Verse 2 : The sea once taught me how to listen to the world, Now its voice is faint, like a banner half‑unfurled. I sit on a duho carved from memory and loss, As the night sky speaks prophecy across the distance I cross. Pre‑Chorus: Still the hummingbird circles, reminding me to stay, That even far from the islands, the spirits know the way. Chorus: Oh zemí, guide me home through the distance and the ache, For my chest is a shoreline the waves can’t reach or break. I am wandering, wandering, carrying the land in my hands, But the pain grows heavy when I’m far from my people’s sands. Bridge : I hear the areíto rising in the dark, A drumbeat echoing inside my heart. Every step away feels like a wound unhealed, Yet the ancestors whisper, “Your spirit is still sealed.” Final Chorus : Oh zemí, guide me home through the distance and the ache, Let the dawn remind me what the night tries to take. I am wandering, wandering, but I know where I stand— For even in exile, I am shaped by the land.
Welcome to the circle ....
Hello beloved members of the Circle of First Voices. I would like to thank you for joining and welcome all new members . Please reply to this post and introduce yourself to the circle so we can all bond in community and share stories, poetry and song... I am Kia, a mother , poet , author, indigenous educator. I am Arawak (Lokono) , and a Quechua descendant of Incan tribe. Coming into this knowledge of self and identity took years of asking questions , searching and connecting with relatives living in distant lands. The journey itself has been most exciting and eye-opening. It has also been mildly spiritual for me but all that has been revealed has led me to deeper understanding and stronger connection to all my family and kin many of whom I have not had the pleasure of meeting face to face. But that day will come.
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Creative Prompt of the Week
Free write: In what ways have memories left a physical mark on you or your life ?
0 likes • Jan 22
Memories like distant voices of dear kin whom have spoken life into me and woven the knowledge of of the land and its intentions upon my every being. Like blistering cold winds of change the move like the seasons fading to depart and later return unannounced. Through times greatest test I always remember...
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Kia Diaz
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@kia-diaz-5109
Indigenous Quechua‑Arawak author, poet, and educator. Third‑grade math teacher and mother, writing to honor ancestry, community, and future

Active 5d ago
Joined Dec 26, 2025