The Blind Falcon

I was always the outsider.

Where others

could keep their

passions

under control, tight under glass,

I blazed.

I yearned, I thirsted, I desired

with fierce intensity

for the world

that this village could not offer.

Mother and Father

did what they could—

bought what books

they could afford,

sent me to the dominie

to learn, to grow in knowledge—

but I was never

truly satisfied.

I wanted more.

In everything I did, every aspect

of my life, I stood

in his constant shadow.

Charles Dalrymple.

He always had one more advantage,

was one step ahead,

had learned one more lesson

than I.

After Mother died, Father

was afraid

that I would grow despondent,

unwilling to be taught

any more than I already had been.

In my unrelenting search

for something more,

I proved him wrong.

My education

was aided unwittingly

by my adversary.

Because of Charlie,

I learned to resent.

I learned to hate.

But, in hating with all my heart,

I was blinded.

A caged falcon

battles against

the bars of cold black iron

that encircle it,

lashing out in its despair

at any who may have helped

to cause its captivity.

So it was with me,

for my sightlessness

led me only to

sorrow.

No money was available

to send me

to Edinburgh

for schooling

and I resigned myself,

however bitterly,

to helping Father.

Each day melted slowly

into the next,

with the future spreading ahead,

gray and crawling

like the fog on the moors,

until I saw her.

Jean. The dove.

Quiet and graceful,

when she spread her wings to soar

my heart fluttered with her.

The captive hunter

had again found reason to fly

when the young eagle

who dared to rise higher than the falcon

snatched the beautiful white bird

from the sky,

leaving a single angelic feather

to float to earth.

I would have my revenge.

I still remember the wedding,

and the swords.

I would have fought him,

if needed,

so greatly did I desire

vengeance.

Passionate hatred

sharpened my fury,

my heart encased

in a sheath of steel,

cold, remorseless, and chill.

Harming her was never my intention.

When I saw

her eyes alight with fear

as I madly kissed her,

I knew

that I would never

be able to face her again.

And so I ran.

And so I died.

Now, as I walk through the mists

seperating worlds,

the steel surrounding my heart

has dissipated,

leaving only a trace

of the mortal hatred behind.

I curse my blindness now;

Why couldn't I have seen

your patient soul,

your tears gleaming on your face

as you cried, alone, in the darkness?

Somehow, you sense my presence

and dance sad,

pain-filled steps.

And as I hold you one last time,

I realize

that what Mr. Lundie said

was true:

"Sometimes, you have to lose everything

to get everything."