The Shawl

She let the thin fabric of her shawl drop on to the floor behind her. The cool tiles absorbed the weightless weight of it, the indigo and sunbright and saffron colors of it. The jewels at the bottom. Dangling as it swooped through the air, clanging as it fell, touching cold clay . She stood in the open archway looking out at the valley below. She felt a breeze on her shoulders for the first time in so any years. The past washed away, with the settling of cloth, memories erased as the breeze swept it up, sent it flying on wingless wings over the tops of the famous city at daybreak.

“I am free,” said to herself. To no one and to everyone.

Now I am free.