Poetry
Behind the Bars
A poem on freedom
Behind the bars that kept me in
Someone else’s property,
My wings are tied — my feathers dyed
Just so they’d gaze at me.
They scold me and they whip me
If I take the wrong piece.
The rope would tighten around my feet
If it looked like I were to flee.
You lock me in a cage.
You try to clip my wings.
You starve me and you bend me
Into perfection — what I “should” be.
Your bladed words may cut my plumage
And crack my fragile beak.
However, my friend, don’t you see
That these wounds are just skin-deep?
Given the force to break my bars
Not by strength physically,
But rather by the invisible
Wings hidden inside of me.
I, my supposedly flawless body,
Might stay put in captivity,
But I know someday a voice will speak
Under my scars and clamped-shut beak.
It will call my name and spread my wings.
It will set me free.
