There was no denying–that the merciless cage only,
Prevented the Birds from soaring up high
Following their rush, up in the sky-which they love.
There was no denying. There never is.
There was no shame–when the cruel master,
Had taken the wings…taken them away
There was no shame.
There was no pain, when the Birds would sing
Not in melancholy, but in vain
Not in forgetfulness but in ignorance
Of the bliss in flight.
There was no pain. There always is.
There was no wonder–that what would happen
If the Birds grew back their wings
Would there be rebellion?
Would there be flight?
Would there be a reason?
Would they remember?
There was no guilt….
The day of the storm–when the wind blew down the cage
When the drapes kept swaying
And the bizarre light kept flashing
When the Birds lay forgotten
There was an escape.
A flutter, a hop, a swing and a flitter
And a swoosh….
The Birds Grew Wings
There was no ego..in their flight.
There was no pride.
There was no remorse. There always is.
* * *
The Birds soon discovered–their wings,
Had always been with them.
They had just been forgetful,
Of wings and flight and the sky
They blamed it on the Man.
There was so much anger. There always is.
* * *
The Birds flew in a sequence.
