Ornithology

It's as if,
I'm in an old brass birdcage,
miles up in the sky,
and the sun shines on me,
through the wire openings,
but I've hardly felt it,
for the longest time.

 

I didn't know,
how to get out,
and I can't even count,
how many times,
I have tried to grease myself up,
and try to slip through the wire sides.

 

But I'm slowly figuring out,
that I can press my palms,
up against the weakening hinged door,
and push forward until it opens,
with an aged moaning squeak,
and I can step through,
to let myself fall out,
of the birdcage in the sky,
and catch my own fall,
so I don't hit the ground too hard,
and break a wing.

Reviews

[Sweet_pale_cacophony]

I have to say here that I haven't read anything on this site in a while now. Your poem is so tender and beautiful..just like a bird. It is heartbreaking at some points yet in such a subtle way.
Thanks for your words. They make me want to come back, write again and read a lot more.

[Emmy J.M. Powell]

Thank you, that's sweet of you to say! As you said, you SHOULD write more. ^.^

[JC]

This poem gave me a melancholy feel of a 1930's circus painting entwined with a woman's feeling of being trapped, someway, somehow, of being in the dark and suddenly and finally finding a way out that doesn't involve someone coming to her rescue but instead she finds she can do it all herself, very empowering prose.

[Emmy J.M. Powell]

Thank you, your words are kind. c: