Echoes of Freedom

A free bird leaps

on the back of the breeze

and drifts downstream

till the currents cease.

He dips his wings

in the orange-gold light

and claims the sky

as his birthright.

But a bird confined

in a narrow cage

sees little beyond

the bars of rage.

His wings are clipped,

his feet are bound,

so he lifts his voice

in a mournful sound.

The caged bird sings

with a trembling trill

of unknown things

longed for still,

and his song is heard

on distant hills,

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.

The free bird dreams

of another breeze,

the trade winds soft

through sighing trees,

of fat worms waiting

on a dawn-lit lawn,

and he names the sky

his own.

But the caged bird stands

on the grave of dreams,

his shadow screams

a nightmare's theme.

His wings are clipped,

his feet are tied,

so he lifts his voice

to the sky.

The caged bird sings

with a trembling trill

of unknown things

longed for still,

and his song is heard

on distant hills,

for the caged bird

sings of freedom.