• It’s like a bird let out of her cage.
    She’s bittersweet as she gazes at the morning shine.
    She throws herself into the air, fueling her flight with new hope,
    And is jerked back, inches from free air.
    She looks back to the cage, her prison-home for so long
    And fights the stream of silver connecting present and past.
    She flies again, with spirit in her drive,
    But the bond is strong forged from drawn-out masquerade.
    In the darkness, she falls. To the silence, she calls.
    She calls to the wrong silence, and receives no answer.
    The angry fear is felt rising again, building on pain long hidden within.
    Later on, she looks back, far from proud of blind actions.
    She longs to leave the past behind, to beat her wings against free air.
    She longs to fly away, to leave it all on the ground.
    So the chained bird sings.
    But none hear her. Eventually, her voice fades.
    Yet, she refuses to return to the cage. So she sits on the windowsill,
    Gazing at the open skies, tasting the free air.
    Days go by, and time spent in chains.
    Captivity weathers her drive so defiled, chipping away at her painted smile.
    Each time someone works her chain loose,
    The silence unknowingly pulls it tight again.
    She longs to hear the Silence, to see the Unseen.
    Maybe if she was patient, she could.
    If she would be still and wait, she could be released into free air.
    Sure enough, His comfort comes. The chain is broken.
    When in Darkness, I fall, to the Silence, I call.
    I call, because I’m sure of an answer.
    ~**~