Palabras y plumas el viento las lleva.
Given words break easily or nothing comes of them. So, the saying encourages us to pay them no mind.
Birds don’t make promises lightly because they know what happens when they break their word. The wind plucks their feathers, one for every word of the promise they made and didn’t bother to keep, and carries them far, far away. That is why most birds have stopped giving their word altogether. Because keeping silent is easier than doing their best to fulfill their promises.
Luckily for them, people have no qualms about giving their word because breaking those promises has no negative consequences for them. And only the Wind knows that when people fail to keep their promises, birds grow new feathers, one for each word of the promise they broke.
The bird promised to always be by your side. But he flew away, and you broke into tears. I wiped them away, with a gentle breeze, but the hurt stayed in your eyes. I could tell that it had nested in your heart, but there had to be something I could do for you. I sent my fiercest gust of wind to pluck the feathers of that bird. I took the sky from him. I used those feathers to build a nest, but I couldn’t cajole the hurt out of your heart. And by the time you told me that revenge doesn’t mend broken hearts, it was already too late. Mine had broken too.
The bird promised to give up flying for you. But that wasn’t what you heard, was it? You believed that he would give up everything for you. That he would meet you on the ground, far away from the sky, with nothing to his name but his love for you. And then you heard him sing. About something that wasn’t you. He managed to find lungfuls of inspiration in that old, dusty ground you hated so much. He was supposed to fulfill you, and you were supposed to fulfill him. You believed that you would be each other’s everything. And I am sorry to tell you that I can ‘t take revenge on your behalf. Because that bird never lied to you. You were the one that took the sky for everything because that hollow blue color matched your nothingness.
The bird promised to always give you hope. He left, and you expect me to pluck all his feathers. But as far as I can tell that bird hasn’t broken his word yet. Maybe you and I have a different definition of hope? Hope isn’t an everlasting green. Hope is the green that comes after yellows, reds and browns have left the branches bare. Hope would be that bird flying back into your heart after a long absence. It’s not his fault if you can’t take the cold, and doubts have crept into your very bones. Winter is barely here, and you have to let the days grow darker. Otherwise, that bird’s return won’t mean anything at all.
The bird promised to share his freedom with you. Did you really expect him to let you borrow his wings? You got a free ride on the back of that bird. The color blue cannot be touched, but you at least got to touch a few clouds, and I don’t know why you are complaining. Didn’t that bird listen to you? Didn’t he fly where you pointed? Maybe you thought that both of you would be free at the same time? I am sorry to disappoint, but that is not how sharing works. No one can fly with just one wing. It should have been obvious that you would have had to take turns. But you still had dreams to fulfill and clouds to touch, didn’t you? I am not here to assign blame. I just heard that promise break, and now, if you will excuse me, I have some feathers to pluck.
On paper, it was a beautiful idea. I didn’t like it, but it could have worked. The Wind wanted to discourage us from breaking our promises. She knew better than anyone how much flying meant to us. That is why she threatened to pluck our feathers, and she didn’t shrink from making good on her threat. But the Wind forgot to take people like you into account. Having our feathers plucked isn’t much of a deterrent if they just keep growing back. Did you know that birds sing? That most birds just sing while they wait for their feathers to grow back? There is no remorse. That’s what hurts the most. Nowadays most birds associate broken promises with beautiful songs, and they don’t spare a thought for those they hurt.
Why? Those feathers were mine. They were a gift from the Sky. The Wind had no right to take them from me. I never promised her anything. What did she care? One or a thousand broken promises. They were between me and some other bird. The Wind was just there. Every time I flew. That closeness, that love, it was between the Sky and me. The Wind shouldn’t get a say. She isn’t a bird. She has no right, and she will never understand. When promises break, there are no hurt feelings between birds. Promises are just songs. Beautiful words to pass the time. Until we can take wing and reunite with the Sky that means everything to us.
Here’s the thing. If there was such a thing as right and wrong, or black and white, I would know. I wouldn’t need someone else’s carrot and stick. I am a bird. Flying makes me free, and that extends to my will. I don’t need the Wind’s help. I don’t need her encouragement, and I certainly don’t need her punishments. No bird takes broken promises to heart. Every bird knows that words don’t mean anything. Because flying is everything, and we do that in silence. The rest are just meaningless songs. And no matter how many feathers she plucks from my wings, the Wind won’t change my mind. Because they grow back. And I will keep flying until the day I die.
Isn’t it fun? I like playing this game. I get rewarded for breaking promises. The Wind plucks my old feathers. The ones that are covered in dirt and a smidge of guilt. Those weather-worn feathers that don’t let me fly as high as I see myself flying in my dreams. The Wind plucks them all. And I only have to wait one or two songs. Soon, I will be covered in shiny new feathers. In a myriad of colors straight out of my happiest dream. And I will fly one beat closer to the stars. Do you see these goosebumps? They gave me their word at the start of the game, and they haven’t broken it yet.
I promise to never let you down. I do. I can do it.
No worries, I am not one to get my hopes up.
I promise to make you happy. I love you, and I will make you happy. There is no need for you to get goosebumps, my love. You can entrust your happiness to me.
I wonder, does it still count as a broken promise if you just took it upon yourself? I still haven’t decided whether it would be kinder to let you try, or if I should just tell you that my unhappiness has nothing to do with you.
I promise to love you unconditionally. That’s what I am supposed to say, isn’t it?
You didn’t want to say it, and I never wanted to hear it. But you were the grown-up there. I couldn’t do anything about the words that went in my ear and clung like leeches to my heart, but you could have swallowed the words others put in your mouth. If you cared, you would have kept them from reaching me.
I promise to keep you safe. There. I said what you needed to hear. And now I can only hope that the few tears I have left are enough to wash off the aftertaste of that lie.
Why would I waste my breath blaming you? I don’t care for the taste of resentment in my lungs. My life will revolve around me, not you. I didn’t let the monster that hurt me reign over me. What makes you think that I would crown you king? I will keep breathing, free of anything that remotely resembles a monster. And who knows, maybe someday that freedom will translate into peace.
I promise to be there for you. That’s what I said, but this is not what I had in mind. I saw myself as the wind under your wings. I knew that you didn’t really need my help for that, but I wanted to be there, to share in your joy, when you touched the sky. But you only seek my company when you are feeling low. You only let me share in the worst moments of your life, and it’s taking a toll on my love for you.
Should I have lied? Is that what you wanted from me? When I am happy, I don’t need anyone else. The sky is empty, and happiness is feeling whole. Unlike sadness, happiness is supposed to be an act of pure selfishness. Sadness is need. The need for comfort. The need for company. If you broke into tears, and you felt all alone in that color blue, wouldn’t you want someone there too to help you put your scattered pieces back together? I need to believe that you will be there for me when sadness is all I have. But you want me to lie. And I can’t. Because then everything you said would ring hollow.
I promise you that this too will pass.
When? I have run out of tears, but it’s still here, haunting my every heartbeat. Shouldn’t it have passed by now?
I promise to feed you the hearts of those that have given you goosebumps. The hollow blue of the sky never frightened you. You weren’t afraid of dreaming up a better world. And I will never forgive the all-too-real people that scarred you for life.
I am beyond fear. Beyond sadness and disappointment. Revenge is what I live for now. You promised me hearts, and I won’t wait anymore. My teeth are past ready, and I will start feeding now.
I promise to make them pay for everything they have taken from you.
I hate people like you. Some things aren’t replaceable, and no amount of money or blood can make up for the loss.