One Falcon Feather

Pain had damaged her wings in her seemingly endless struggles beating them against the valley walls, then, in the last days she made haste and climbed to the mountain’s summit and flew free. At first I could not see that the sun and the moon were shining on that verdant floor where she lay still till her soul opened its wings and ascended to live far above the clouds. That bird of her soul encompassed the earth casting no shadows in all the six directions, and as I watched her ascent one falcon feather like a sycamore seed spiralled down and became entangled in my hair.