Sometimes, I am a small bluebird, locked neatly in a cage, wings clipped tightly behind my back. I cry out for someone to release me, but there is nowhere to go, not even up. My eyes scan the room, frantically hunting for whoever took me to this place. A quaint dungeon. I never thought I was claustrophobic, but the gilded cage moves closer in my peripherals. I am unable to pry the iron bars of my prison open wide enough to squeeze through. I see what freedom looks like beyond my confinement.
I crave it. I ache for it.
I rattle at the edges of captivity.
Eventually, I settle back down into myself and wait for the moment the lock clicks and someone sets me free. I close my eyes, dreaming of a different life outside of these shackles.
The sun burns brightly beyond glass panes. I decide to take a chance and push the gate, and it swings wide open on its hinges. It is at this moment, I understand the cage was never locked in the first place. I just chose to avoid the door.
***
Sometimes, I am a songbird sitting in a tree. My melody carries through the leaves and serenades the sun. The wind catches my feathers and I free fall from the branch. I take another chance and I fly. I open my wings, and I glide along the breeze that warms my bones.
The colours of the world blend around me as I soar. I can smell the fresh scents that bloom from elegant flowers. Pinks that coddle me in energetic honeysuckle undertones, and purples that emit calming notes of lavender. I collect buds of these flowers to add to my personal archives.
I wish to find things that I can collect and hold onto in a nest made of love. Trinkets that line my home, a gallery of the lives I’ve lived before and the soul I wish to become.
I am finding myself amongst the freedom. Living unafraid and knowing that I never have to put myself in a cage again.
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