The caged bird sings
Denied an existence beyond the bars
Untouched by the sky with its dormant wings
Inflicted with invisible permanent scars
Music is its only strength.
Notes of cadence and pure delicacy
Weave through a network of knotted trees
Flowers dance to the enchanted melody
Echoing past clouds aided by the breeze
It sings like no other.
But it is not a sweet song of sweet nothings
To lightly gloss over impressionable ears
To charm the mind into pleasant numbing
To relax the body and suspend the tears
It does not sing to please.
A song of purpose and urgency combined
To penetrate the ear’s ignorant coating
To engage awareness of the polluted mind
To implore the body for pro-action without doting
It sings to be heard.
A choric movement soaked in brilliance
With might and potency
Fervour and resilience
Valour and intensity
With its soul it makes unrelenting reverberations.
The caged bird sings and sings
To crush the chains of its cage
And birth a new age
To finally be a bird that sings.
Published in The Bubble.