Life, Post-Cage

dreamstime.com

First, there was the cage.
Even when the door sat open,
the small bird of my being
was afraid to venture forth,
until desperation
drove me out and away.

Then there was
learning to fly,
and falling,
the exhilaration,
the crashing.

One learns, finally,
to settle on a branch,
sing sweet songs,
enjoy the sunrise.

They may build walls and cages,
attempt to silence the truth-tellers,
try to shoot us
out of the air.
We'll just go underground
and bide our time.
The storm without may rage.
But within one's feathery breast
and small bird brain,
we remember
those spacious skies.
For Freedom,
once experienced,
cannot be unlearned.


for Elizabeth Crawford's Creativity Challenge at 1sojournal: Freedom