A Series of Observations

I am a songbird that has been silenced, free me so that I might explore my range.

I want to fly with my confidence, coast along with my contentment.

Flap my wings with every morsel of my rage and cry out my song of sadness.

The wind through each feather, tender as the love I might share.

I wish I could be more like this wind that I craved to feel. Strong but entirely free in its essence. It holds its motion but relinquishes control to what will be.

I do not have that privilege, control. What could I be if I had it?

Up here, I look around in wonderment, surprise and awe.

Higher I would go, motivated by my bravery, and look down from great heights to then meet my fear and desire for safety. 

There they are, on the ground. Small as ants, my despair, my confusion, my pain.

The air is colder here, I take deep breaths to remind my body of life.

My song would change then. From beats of angry wings and sounds of a broken past to the peaceful and intimate tune of a future yet to come. 

The sound doesn’t come, and I choke. I fall from the heights that once inspired me as my wings stiffen from the ties of what is, where I am. 

My eyes close briefly, accepting this well-known free fall. 

My life returned to the cage.

My song unfinished.