Slave

by Anakin SkyWolf

I promised something to my mother years ago.
Years?
Is it not millennia?
She was so beautiful.
She always was.
Not by heart or spirit a slave.
Soulful.
Powerful.
Alive.

Long after, I returned to her side.
Beside her, yet alone.
Was she even in the same Cosmos as I?
So beautiful.
Always.
Not by heart or spirit a quitter.
Peaceful.
Amazing.
Gone.

My wife, I cannot speak of.
Wife?
Did I ever love anyone enough to marry?
Yes.
She was my life.
My Cosmos.
Not by heart or spirit a loser.
Heroic.
Idealistic.
Lost.

That demon, Palpatine, stole my life.
My spirit.
My soul.
Was I even human anymore?
No.
Mechanical.
Distant.
Not by heart or spirit a lover.
Dark.
Sadistic.
Evil.

A slave I had been before.
On Tatooine.
Did I truly submit to it?
Yes.
I was a slave.
A tool.
Not by heart or spirit submissive.
Smart.
Clever.
Young.

A slave I became, to the Jedi.
To codes.
Did I agree with the rules?
No.
I was a lover.
A rebel.
Not by heart or spirit passive.
Hot.
Wild.
Passionate.

My son believed I was good.
Deep within.
Was I really that obvious?
Perhaps.
Alone.
Enslaved.
Not by heart or spirit a hater.
Needing.
Loving.
Light.

Palpatine would have destroyed my son.
For resisting.
Was he really that cruel?
Yes.
Dominant.
Obsessive.
Not by heart or spirit anything good.
Hating.
Destroying.
Dark.

I killed him then.
My Master.
Did I gain inner strength?
I hope so.
Kinder.
Warmer.
Not by heart or spirit a slave.
Loved by my son.
Loving of my son.
Free.