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Clipping Wings
As the bird's wings
beat frantically against the cheek
of the unspeaking man whose all too solid hands
deny freedom with the left and with the right
brings close the instrument of despair.
On the man's face,
the wings of the young bird leave marks
of red and white, quickly fading,
soon lost to sight of bird and man;
a too small justice, ignored and soon forgotten.
In the man's gaze,
the sky-color of his eyes turns gray, all blue
is gone from sight, as shears like iron clouds
worm their way to primary feathers
that suddenly fall to the floor, lost.
Beyond the bird's grasp,
relentless, as though no sacrifice or ceremony
of sorrow had occurred, the man thrusts
the bird into a metal cage, denies freedom from without
even as it is denied from within.
Over the heads of both,
the sky invites, beckons, offers freedom
blindly and is uncaring
if the invitation is received, refused,
or stolen.
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