The Bird and The Man

They said time would heal. But how can something heal when you’ve been in so much pain, you forget what time even is?

Now imagine…

A small hungry bird meets a man that feeds her bread crumbs. It’s nothing much, but it gives hope to the bird. The man keeps coming back and keeps giving just crumbs, one day a bit more, one day a bit less, and eventually the bird is used to his presence and trusts him to show up every day.

One day, she follows him — and the cage slams shut. The man keeps feeding the bird crumbs, and some days brings even less than usual, keeping the bird always hungry, but not yet starving. She’s just grateful to be fed — even if it’s never enough.

One day, he brings a needle. A quick stab — not deep, but it burns. Enough to make her flinch. He gives her crumbs and walks away. The next day, it happens again. Then again. And again, until the pain becomes routine. So the man brings a sharpened fork and stabs the bird, not once… not twice.. He keeps stabbing. Until she collapses on the cold metal floor, feathers matted with blood, bones aching, but she’s still alive. Then he throws in some crumbs… With her last strength, she swallows the dry crumbs — choking, but determined… He watches her struggling… and leaves with a smile. And the next day, again — wounding, feeding, watching, leaving. Day after day after day. Eventually, the pain becomes background noise. All she sees are the crumbs — her only hope of surviving. So the man brings a knife… and the cycle repeats. The tools become sharper… the intention to inflict pain gets more and more intense.

Until one day, something deeper than pain splinters — not a scream, but a shift. A crack in silence. And that’s when it happens.

She doesn’t know where the strength came from. Is it fear? Is it the last fighting survival instinct that suddenly awakened? Or maybe the desire to see the sky again… to feel the wind swooshing through her feathers while she’s finally flying again… eventually it doesn’t matter… the moment she sees he left the cage door slightly ajar, she takes her chance to escape. Did he get careless? Or just so sure she was broken beyond repair? Maybe. But something inside her cracked open wider than her wounds. Not hope, not certainty — just the whisper of something she hadn’t felt in years: will. And that was enough. The bird takes this miraculous chance and escapes the cage, running for her life.

Time passes… the wounds start to heal… the new coat of feathers looks more beautiful and vibrant than it ever was… And the pain? It’s always there… The scars keep reminding themselves when it rains and when the cold winter comes. When she’s alone at night, they start to itch. The not-yet-healed wounds keep bleeding... despite the amount of time that has passed. They keep reminding her- her story. Her resilience. The strength she found despite all the pain. The more time passes, the more she learns to live with her wounds and scars… with the pain that never goes away… and even on her best days still lingers in the corner of those scars under the new coat of feathers… The world sees her feathers — bright, soft, whole. But beneath them, the scars remain hidden. She flies now… but never forgets the cage.

They said time would heal. But in the silence of the scars, time has no meaning — only memory.