The Trapped Bird
This is my song- the song of a trapped blackbird.
I long for the days when i was free, free from envy, free from jealousy, free from these artificial proscriptions the higher-ups and the faceless guys at the top put on me. Instead, I find myself in this cruel and restraining prison, a cage made of aluminum and brass, which constrains me physically and mentally. Not far from this needless yet oh-so-painful device the outside awaits for me to spread my wings over it yet it is a dream I will never realize.
The slopes further upland and the mountains nearby,, they tease me with a promise of sunshine, a promise I know to be more real than the rain, a promise that I once experienced as truth before my cruel imprisonment in this cage. Beside the window, I even though deadened to most feelings can still feel the crisp autumn breeze blowing through the outside, which still teases me to this very day as I sit unwatched and unloved and not free at all. It flows freely and vibrantly and beautifully through the grass, rippling and waving the grass in the same way the wind does to the oceans which separate from my beloved homeland.
And there is a cool and flowing river flowing nearby, a blue procession of water retracing its ancient and sacred and unstoppable pilgrimage to the ocean which I must fly across. And the river shimmers, shining like the purity of the glass used in a king's cup to hold his drink. I can hear the songs of the other birds who are far more fortunate than I am to be singing and flying, their actions not limited by a cage or prison; those birds are limited only by their ambitions. To think that I was once among them myself but those days have passed by and never to return and all I'm left with is the misery. And why do these birds of many great and mighty colors sing? They sing as the heralds of the springtime when the winter snows melt and new life begins, with the opening of the first buds and flowering plants. And when that colorful chalice should decide to open, coaxed by the warmth and sunlight, it seems cruel that one of my brethren gets to sample its sweet nectar while I sit and waste away. That is exactly how I feel!
And this whole time I curse in the name of the Almighty One this metal and ungodly enclosure the faceless and cruel ones made for me. I claw and talon against it hoping to shatter it, I bite and twist it or at least try to, I beat my wings against it and wish it would give way, until my angry red feelings match the blood on my wings. But try as I might, the entire exercise is one of futility and soon I must fly back defeated to the perch, unsuccessful once more in my freedom attempt. And the pain returns with a thousand needles to sting me- not just the bleeding in my wings but the throbbing of the old, old scars deep in my soul of this dream of freedom never being realized. And each failed attempt makes the scars hurt much worse than the day before but I must continue if I ever want to be free. Will I ever return home?
And what a place home was and will be, if the memory still serves me well after all these many years. Everything reminds me of that wondrous paradise- the red of my blood, the red of the leaves outside from my window- it reminds me of the autumn sun setting underneath the horizon in my homeland, a place without cold, without horror. And I think of the blackness of a winter midnight in this cage when the winds turn from comforting to harsh, of my own feathers in the mirror, of the ominous shadow of death creeping closer with each trapped day. My brothers and sisters are also share that hue And I see the green fields outside my cage, a sign that the weather will turn hospitable and warm once more, a welcome color of hope more beautiful than anything I have ever beheld. My life and aspirations are colored red, black, and green. I want to stretch out my wing and hope my brother or sister would free me from this prison and we would fly home
And in spite of all that is against me right now, all that has been against me since that accursed day of imprisonment in this metal edifice, still I sing as every proud bird would even in the most dire of circumstances. My wings are sore from the failed escapes, my entire body is weak for longing of freedom but still I sing a song of hope. I despise these cruel and unusual bars who I have grown to know unfortunately, for the sake of my freedom I will keep beating them until they are mercifully destroyed. The songs I sing are not ones of joy or happiness like the other birds sing; neither are they mating calls of birds falling in love for the first time. No my friend, these are the cries which were formed in my heart of hearts, resonating in my mind, amplified by my soul, and whether or not you want to hear them or not, matters little to me. Can you not hear it? The song I sing is a solemn and heartfelt prayer I life to God in the hopes of being free and there is no way of silencing it, no muffling it, no way of making it stop at all. I must be free!
This is my song- the song of a trapped blackbird.