The Redemption of Sir Guy

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The tangled mass of raven locks,

A curtain to hide your shame behind--

Self-loathing and despair

Are your constant companions

You live in hell . . .

A wounded animal, cornered,

striking out with unsheathed claws,

howling in rage and sorrow;

bent on vengeance,

plunged into a long, dark night of the soul . . .

All your dreams, just smoke and mirrors;

All your hopes turned to ash

Your heart given to a woman who wanted no part of you,

Rent in two as you took her life

And killed that hopeful part of you

Black heart, dark soul,

living a waking nightmare,

wanting what you could not have,

wishing for what you destroyed;

You had done away with the thing you loved.

Your plans to conquer turned to dust,

Your proud return bringing only humiliation,

Under the thumb of a poisonous creature,

Longing for freedom and for revenge;

Living only to seek it.

She comes to you in the darkness of a dungeon

So very young, hardly more than a child

Chiding you, challenging you

"The Great I Am," she says with scorn . . .

An obstinate woman-child, who questions without mercy

And yet, and yet-she listens, too;

She sees the kindly gestures, the half-smiles, the gentleness,

All that lies beneath your surface disdain and stoic visage

She sees the broken and contrite heart beneath the villain's veneer . . .

She sees, and cares, and seeks to understand.

And when she earns her freedom, she does not forget you;

Endangers herself to free you as well,

For she has seen what the other woman never bothered to see,

and she loves as the other woman never bothered to love,

Without reservations, or conditions. Without agenda. Freely.

Something awakens in your heart at that moment

A new light comes into those beautiful haunted eyes . . .

A redeemed man is struggling against the guilt, pain and sorrow;

The nobility within, shining through at that executioner's block

As the good knight, the hero, the champion appears at her side.

And when you lose her, oh, far too cruelly and too soon,

And weep over her pale, still body, and remember,

Some part of you dies with her that day, in the forest glade,

And some part of you is also reborn.

For she always "quite liked you." She believed in you.

And on that fateful day as you battle for right,

When evil overwhelms you,

And the blows are struck, and your breath is stolen,

And your still, pale body lies on that cold dungeon floor--

She returns, and clasps your hand in hers, and says--

"I always knew you were good."

The other woman was never yours,

Never more than a hopeful illusion

But this obstinate girl saw into your soul,

So flawed and damaged and hurting,

And saw what we saw.

A noble knight, redeemable, and worthy of love.

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