When I left, I left everything I knew,
Alone I wandered,
The sky was my release
Consumed by my exile
Hearing whispers of my past
Entering places long abandoned
Reaching for an answer to an unknown question
It started with death, as all things must. The rain lashed against my wings as I stood watching my parents in ornate coffins being lowered down through a hole into the outside. I felt despair clutch at my body, consuming me until I could bare it no longer. As I turned to leave I saw the faces of the few relatives that had turned up, their faces depicted a great sadness. As I entered my parent’s house, for it would always be theirs no matter what divide they had crossed I knew what I must do. It took me a few minutes to get my stuff together and then I was gone, I had gone into a self-imposed exile. My heart was broken by the loss and my soul was wracked in pain.
The time spent up in the air was a freedom of a kind, when I was gliding over the snow speckled landscape I was free of all ties. Yet even as I flew I felt the sadness of times past, time changed up in the skies. I kept no track of days and felt as if I was back in my parent’s house, laughing with them. Yet there were times when I recalled their deaths and my body convulsed with weeps and a deep feeling of sadness. The caves that I crawled slowly and miserably into to find a few hours of rest seem a blur of lichen and rocks when I look back on it.
One day after countless nights of flying I remember stumbling into a broken and abandoned house, cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Even as I fell to the floor I heard the whispers of my past echo through me. I must have slept throughout the whole day, for when I woke up I could see the moonlight glinting off the glass in the window. Memories stirred from their resting places, even as I looked around they came trickling back. The long sorrow that had gripped me left suddenly as I stared at the house that I had left so long ago. A smile touched my lips as I let go of the misery. I was finally home, my home. As I lay there the final remnants of the hurt faded, on that floor my sorrow finally left me as I accepted their death and I was at peace with myself at last.
I had my answer, though it was not the one I was looking for it was the right answer. To be at peace you can’t forget or to run away, to be at peace I had to accept the past and move on. Do I accept that death has to happen? No… I will do anything and everything in my power to prevent it. Would I bring someone back from the dead? Never, while I will do everything in my power to prevent it I do not have the strength to bring people back from the veil of death and not let the power over death change me for the worst.
(There you have it, one of my best story telling works I have written if I do say so myself).
