When the bird got uncaged
They always told her tales of life in the trees, night spent staring at the sun setting and the mornings when they all woke to chase the glow. They never told her of the nights out in the cold, lonely and alone, the nightmares of the night and the anxiety as they awaited the sun to rise. They told her of how they swam in the meadows and partook of grubs and dew. The other birds told her of how they bathed in the dust, raced around, sang and danced. They never told her about the bald eagle that chased them around and the hawks that took their children away. They told her of their colourful nests with colourful eggs. They never told her about the snakes that fed on them, the jealousy among the barren birds and the squabbles over territories. The macaw told her about the nuts and the hummingbird told her of nectar, but they never got to tell her about how tough their shells were or how frail the flowers were. The honey bird told her about the honey, but she did not tell her about the bees. When the bird got uncaged and reality dawned on her, she knew that she had to sit down, learn and unlearn. She knew that she had to remember and to forget. When the bird got uncaged, she knew that fantasy was the way things were supposed to be but reality was the way things were. She knew that she had to start over before her end came. For though the hawks roamed the sterile blue skies, the bird did not fear, for she believed in living one day at a time, flapping one wing after the other. Even though the sun was high and hot, the bird knew that freedom was not free, it came at a cost, but she had to have it at all costs. When the bird got uncaged, she knew that freedom was not everything in the world. It was not about sailing with the wind but also sailing against it. She knew that freedom was not about being born with the sun but dying with it too. When the bird got uncaged, she got to know that freedom was a breeze at times but sometimes it was turbulence. When the bird got uncaged, she learnt that she hadn’t really been uncaged but had transitioned from a smaller cage to a larger one. She had to redefine freedom, as not the power of the bars but the force you used to beat against them. It was not about the strong wind but the number of times wings flapped to beat it. When the bird got uncaged, she got to know that freedom was the fear of making mistakes, not the fear of trying, not the fear of being in cages but that of living in cages.
They always told her tales of life in the trees, night spent staring at the sun setting and the mornings when they all woke to chase the glow. They never told her of the nights out in the cold, lonely and alone, the nightmares of the night and the anxiety as they awaited the sun to rise. They told her of how they swam in the meadows and partook of grubs and dew. The other birds told her of how they bathed in the dust, raced around, sang and danced. They never told her about the bald eagle that chased them around and the hawks that took their children away. They told her of their colourful nests with colourful eggs. They never told her about the snakes that fed on them, the jealousy among the barren birds and the squabbles over territories. The macaw told her about the nuts and the hummingbird told her of nectar, but they never got to tell her about how tough their shells were or how frail the flowers were. The honey bird told her about the honey, but she did not tell her about the bees. When the bird got uncaged and reality dawned on her, she knew that she had to sit down, learn and unlearn. She knew that she had to remember and to forget. When the bird got uncaged, she knew that fantasy was the way things were supposed to be but reality was the way things were. She knew that she had to start over before her end came. For though the hawks roamed the sterile blue skies, the bird did not fear, for she believed in living one day at a time, flapping one wing after the other. Even though the sun was high and hot, the bird knew that freedom was not free, it came at a cost, but she had to have it at all costs. When the bird got uncaged, she knew that freedom was not everything in the world. It was not about sailing with the wind but also sailing against it. She knew that freedom was not about being born with the sun but dying with it too. When the bird got uncaged, she got to know that freedom was a breeze at times but sometimes it was turbulence. When the bird got uncaged, she learnt that she hadn’t really been uncaged but had transitioned from a smaller cage to a larger one. She had to redefine freedom, as not the power of the bars but the force you used to beat against them. It was not about the strong wind but the number of times wings flapped to beat it. When the bird got uncaged, she got to know that freedom was the fear of making mistakes, not the fear of trying, not the fear of being in cages but that of living in cages.
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