A bird was in a cage. Useless wings, it couldn’t
fly.
She, the bird, was at first glad of being in the
cage’s safety. No more risk of falling, of carnivores, of strong winds. Her Master
would go to the cage to feed her; she didn’t have to hunt for food. Her feet
gripped the stick and hopped on the stretch of it from one edge to the other.
She looked down and saw how the cage’s bars prevented him from any potential
fall. Vultures would fly from behind the bars. Wind would blow through the
bars, but it only tottered her a little. She sang morning songs and sang sweet
songs at night. She had the whole cage for dancing – little flaps, hops, and
twists. Every morning, she would rejoice at the sight of her Master’s long
fingers that dropped those yummy seeds.
The days passed and she found herself enjoying the
cage less and less. Her wings were turning weak and stiff. She flapped one,
two, three, and found herself tired. She started singing badly. Soon enough,
she found herself looking at the wide sky over her and that vast space much
bigger than the cage. The cage wasn’t comfortable anymore, and the bars began
to stifle her.
One day, she awoke and felt no better than yesterday.
She didn’t feel that her purpose was solely singing songs to a master. She was
starting to get mad at her Master. That morning, the Master slipped his long fingers
in the cage as usual and dropped the seeds. She saw the flesh the fingers were
clad in and ripped it. The Master briskly removed his fingers along with a
groan of pain. Eyes looked at her in shock, fingers holding a bleeding finger.
The next morning, a different finger – thin and
wrinkly – entered her cage and dropped the seeds. Her bite produced a high-pitched
shriek.
The following morning, big and fat fingers placed
the seeds. With a swift glide, she bit the skin. Mad scream. Next thing she knew,
the cage was shaking. From then on, she was sure that peace would never come
back to that cage again. It was no longer safe.
Finally, the morning came when familiar fingers held
the cage’s door again. The long fingers threw the door open. No seeds. The fingers
didn’t come in. Silence. She found the silence curious, and carefully hopped
towards the open door. She stuck her head out and looked from left to right.
The place was all empty.
Her eyes caught sight the bare sky before her, no
more bars blocking the entire sight. She closed her eyes and inspired the air. A
breeze, however, suddenly blew and shook the cage; she flew back into the cage
in fright. She calmed herself down and faced the open door again. The sky was
calling her. She flapped her wings once, twice, thrice. Forward. Four. Forward.
Five, six. Can she do it?
She remembered how she’d done flying before. A long
time ago. She recalled how it felt to spread her wings, to fly with clouds, to
glide across and over roofs…to be free. At last, she flapped her wings more
than three, more than four, more than five and six. She flapped it countlessly.
Faster. Faster. She flapped it so fast with a force that could defy gravity.
She knew she could trust her wings now. Her mind grew more and more ecstatic as
her feet lifted from the ground. More than anything, she wanted to overcome
risks, escape the attacks of carnivores, and fight against the strongest wind. Flap,
flap, flap.
At last, she flew off the cage, towards the sky and
away from the bars she once knew as home. Boy, she was free. The wind danced
with her, the sun greeted her. She was, above all else, the bird that she
should be.
