–Morning comes
as it always does.
I wake to the familiar shuffle
of light spilling in through narrow spaces.
My day is already decided-
a bowl filled with clean water,
pellets shaped from nutritious food items,
tiny pieces of fruit,
nuts, seeds;
a well-balanced kindness.
Everything is in place.
They store it for me,
inside this space they call my home.
I don’t need to stretch my wings,
don’t need to seek or search.
They keep it clean-
the floor, the air,
even the silence is disinfected.
Oh, you can say I am lucky.
And in many ways,
perhaps I am.
I am safe.
I am fed.
I am cared for.
There is no chaos here,
no hunger,
no danger.
But still-
something presses softly,
quietly,
inside my chest!
Why does this comfort
fail to make me happy?
Why does longing
settle like dust
on my wings?
Why do I dream of a sky
I’ve never touched?
Why do trees in the distance
seem to lean in,
as if whispering my name?
When their leaves sway,
why does my body ache
to move with them?
To feel the wind
not just as a breeze
through bars-
but as a force beneath me?
The birds that visit the railing-
how they sing!
Their songs
are stories of rivers,
of mountains tall enough
to kiss the sky.
And I-
I just listen.
And something inside me
tightens
and tears.
I imagine the streams,
their laughter tumbling over rocks.
I want to dip my wings in them,
feel the cold sweetness
that no vessel can hold.
I want
to spread
myself.
Not in circles.
Not in cages.
But high —
into that
unpromised,
uncontained
wide-blue sky!!
Caged
