FLIGHT OF A SUBMISSIVE

Imagine if you will a large area of thick forest, lush with every color of green and red foliage, surrounded by vast fields of wildflowers and native grasses for as far as the eye can see. Infinite blue skies painted with tiny white wisps of clouds blanketing the ground below. This forest has been my home and these trees have been my playgrounds. I have spent my life in the protective branches of this wilderness, flying from limb to limb, and resting my wings on the soft ground.

The outer edge of my home has held many mysteries to me. I have looked out into the vast fields and seen the other eagles flying so high, so happy and carelessly soaring through the blue beyond. I have also seen the men who walk through the fields. They admire and love the birds and their great capability to trust so blindly in them. A few have spoken, telling me how they can show me how to fly in the wild blue sky. Riding the winds to where they may take me, telling me how their voice and connection to me can bring me back home safely. To soar high above the land and to love in a way that I could do so without effort, has always been so tempting to me, although trust in anyone in the fields, has forever eluded me. I sadly retreat back into my forest, among my friends and family and fly from branch to branch, playing, as I have always known.

One cool and breezy evening in May, as I jumped among the branches of my favorite Oak tree that grew along the edge of my forest, I looked down to see a man standing below the tree. He peered up at me in the tree and commented to me how happy I seemed in the comforting branches of the oak. I went closer to him and told him that my forest has been good to me and I am quite happy here. As the man turned and glanced out into the vast fields, he motioned with his hand, asking if I have ever flown high out into the sky, over the fields. Lowering my head I told him no, I have never been in love. He smiled a warm and inviting smile and walked away, disappearing into the wildflowers.

Day after day he returned to the Red Oak tree and I returned to be with him. We talked and laughed and we learned all about each other. He would try and climb the tree, to sit upon the branches that I have, only to fall to the ground, and I would laugh and remind him that only I, an eagle can know how one of my nature can soar. Nodding in agreement, he also reminded me that only one of his nature can show me how to soar on the wind, loving and trusting in him to bring me back home safely. As I gazed out at the wildflowers, pondering what the freedom to soar must feel like, I asked in an almost dazed like state, how one could show me how to fly up there. Clearing his throat to catch my undivided attention, he spoke of love and trust, giving myself to him in such a way that he would be the sole care for my being. I smiled warmly at him and told him that I am but an older eagle with wings graying and tattered by life. I motioned to the many more beautiful youthful birds in the trees and told him how one of them would be better suited for this young Master who is searching to own a soul mate. He reached forward and graced my life worn wing with his touch, explaining that he feels I am the eagle he was meant to teach, guide and allow to fly under his control. As tears formed in my eyes, he stepped away from me, dawned a thick leather glove to his fist, outstretched his arm and said "come to me my little girl, and let my arm be what keeps you from falling to the ground". Catching my breath, I stepped back on my branch and asked him why, he must wear such a glove on his hand, that he knew I could never hurt him. He knew this but said, the glove was for those times when fear would grip my heart, and my talons would seek to hold onto him tighter. Doubt would cause me to test his resolve and I may nip at his fingers or push away with my strong claws. For these reasons he will wear this protective layer until we have formed such a bond, that the glove will only be a memory of our growth and struggle to become one. And although I will fight back, and push away, he will forever remain steadfast for me to return to that place on his arm where I belong, he would never let me fall to the ground or ever not be there to have to land alone.

Choosing to believe in this young master, I stretched out my wings and flew to his gloved fist. His stance was strong, as my talons held tightly to his glove. He began to walk with me out into the fields, away from the shadows of the forest I have known. As he stopped, I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my feathers and the wind blowing strongly through my wings. Pulling his closed fist close to his body, he told me this was the beginning of our journey together, and to forever be where I land, was his dream.

In the many months to come, as he returned each day to get his little girl, and walk out into the fields, we began to build the trust and bond needed for me to begin to fly at his direction. My Master placed bands of gold around my claws, telling me these are my symbol of his ownership of me and my devotion to him. He then produced two small leather straps, about 6 inches in length that he attached to my legs. These, he said, binds you to me, so that if you ever startle and begin to fall, I can hold you steadfast to my body and keep you safe from harm. Yet one more thing my Master produced was a leather hood. This hood will be the greatest tool of trust we will utilize, he explained. When I place the hood on your head, your eyes, the windows of your soul, will have to look inward. You will have to trust in my grip, trust in my voice, and be guided by my eyes and what I see for you and for us. "Can you do this, little girl?" he asked. I nodded with love and trust as the hood was placed over my head.

As the years went by, the hood and leather glove became memories of our beginning together. I was one with this Master and our love ran deep and pure. I wanted to forever be with him, and be guided by him. I would give up all for him and yet, give up nothing for him. I soared among the clouds and through the heavens, experiencing a captive freedom like never before. Through him I became strong, my wings able to embrace all that he was, and my heart filled with only his presence. His voice forever calling me home to him. I knew, deep down inside, watching the other birds play in the trees and fly about their owners, that all is not guaranteed in the world. But I knew, in my heart of hearts that this Master would never, nor could ever hurt me, and what he has built in me. I was his creation and he loved me as if I was his child, his own, born of his body.

On a particularly hot August morning, my Master took me out to let me fly. He wanted to see his little girl float upon the winds. He held me to his body; told me he loved me and lifted me to the heavens. My wings caught a strong breeze and off I went, high into the blue wilderness. The warm lifts of air tossed me about and gave me an unsure feeling. Quickly returning to the spot I called home in the field where my Master stood, I could see that his arm did not beckon me back, he stood, arms crossed before him with a look of disappointment like I had never seen before. I came to rest in the field; my large wings spread across the wildflowers near my Master's feet. I looked up and asked him why he had me land on the ground and not in his arms like I have done so many times before. Anger came from his mouth. He continued to tell me that he no longer loved me anymore, that I was a disappointment to him and he could no longer go forward with me. I tried to jump back into his arms, but he would not allow me near him. My only recourse was to turn and retreat back into the safety and coverage of my forest.

Every day I returned to the Oak tree, hoping he would be there with his arm outstretched and waiting for me to return to his side. Never did he return. I sat upon the branch sad, looking out into the blue sky and wondering if I could ever fly again. I had not been a perfect eagle and had fallen many times while learning to soar, but he had never expected such in me. Yet, all I could do was begin to accept that it was time for me to go on without him, and thank him for making my wings strong enough to fly on their own.

I ventured out one morning, not long after he had left my life, and began to fly about the edge of the forest, soaring just above the treetops, but never allowing myself to soar carefree as I could when his voice guided me. It was then that I saw him, on the other side of the forest, standing in the field of wildflowers, looking out into the horizon. I flew down to where he was and landed on the ground near him. I asked him if he remained angry with me and if so, what I should do, move on without him or wait for him to return to my side of the forest. He looked down at me with indifference in his eyes, and as I turned my head, I saw her, fly to his side. She was a much younger falcon than I, her wings shiny and unweathered. They displayed a trust and love that took many months for us to build. Tears began to well in my eyes and I realized he had just done what I thought he could never do to me. The last touch he made to my body that had been filled with love and devotion for him was with his hands, now icy, reaching for the very wings that he created, breaking them in his grip. The grip that had held me up from falling had now dropped me to the ground and purposely shattered the very framework that had allowed me to soar. I lay crying on the ground as he walked into the field with his new love. My wings ached as I dragged them behind me, crawling back into the forest.

It has been a few weeks now since I made my way back into the forest. People who have cared about me have set my wings so that they may heal. I sit upon a perch, staring into the blue sky, wondering if I will ever feel the wind under my wings again, questioning why I might ever want to leave the forest again, and will my wings mend and be as strong as they had been with his love.