Falada

(Image by lilianecastile - Pixabay)

I was blessed, they said
A true wonder, they said
For I had the gift of speech and understanding
But it was a gift I did not enjoy using.
I was a gift for a child
Daughter of a queen
A small weak-looking thing
Who, when placed on me,
To my neck she did cling.
The years passed
She barely rode me
I spent my days in a field
Rolling and grazing
And running and jumping
And that suited me.
It was the queen who would ride me
Fearless, she guided me
Well, she treated me
For her, I would run till I could run no more.
For the daughter, I did no more than walk
For I learned soon enough,
What a quick pace would bring
Her arms tight around my neck where she’d cling.

The day came for the journey,
The ill-fated journey.
I know not why the queen sent me
With her daughter, still meek.
Another came with her
On a sweet, quiet horse
Listened not to the daughter
Spoke harsh words to the daughter
Who was not like her mother
Her strong but kind mother
She said not a word to this demanding other.
But her piece of cloth spoke
Nay, the drops of blood spoke,
“If your mother knew,
Her heart would break in two.”
Twice more came harsh words
Twice more came silence
Twice more the drops of blood spoke.
And I?
I saw all yet remained silent.
The other then rode me
The daughter on the sweet horse
And soon to a castle we came.
Then I and the sweet horse
Were put in the stables,
And I still had not spoken
Should I have spoken?
In truth, all I wanted
Was to return to the queen
The strong but kind queen
Who treated me well
And had never, once, ordered me to speak.

Though I missed the field
The stable was warm
The hay, sweet and fresh
I believed I could be content.

A man came
I cared not for his smell
The others watched silently
As he came to take me.
Only the sweet horse,
My companion
Whinnied softly as I was taken.
He tied me
He struck me
The pain split my head…
I knew no more…

I open my eyes
I see fields in the distance
Yet… something is wrong
I feel my body
I feel my legs
Yet I do not move.
It is dark
All is quiet
I want the warm stable
The hay, sweet and fresh
I miss my companion
Still, I cannot move
I close my eyes
Do I sleep?
I do not know…

The sky slowly lightens
Unruly noise intrudes
I look down and see large birds running
… under me?
Then the daughter is there
She looks up at me,
“Oh, poor Falada,
I see you hanging there.”
It has been an age
But I open my mouth and speak,
“Hanging?” I say
She paid the man, she says
The man who killed me –
Wait – that man killed me?
The harsh other, in the daughter’s place
She pretends to be her
She ordered me killed
But why?
She feared I would tell
Of the true princess.
She who stands before me
The true princess
She paid the man to cut off my head
And nail it to this bridge
Where she could see it,
My dissevered head.
But why?
“You are all I have left,
The only one I can talk to.”
But how can this be
If you say I am dead?
“I have some knowledge,
To keep you here still,
It is secret knowledge
So, you are not all dead.”
I look away to the fields
So far away.
I will never run in fields again
Never roll in fields again
Never taste sweet, fresh hay again
All for this princess
Too meek to speak
Too weak to allow me
The freedom of death.
All she says is, “Oh, Falada,
My poor Falada…”
I will never see her again
The strong, the kind queen
Who treated me well
Who never once ordered me to speak
What would she say if she saw me now?
I look at the daughter
The meek, weak daughter
And I speak.
“If your mother knew,
Her heart would break in two.”