For Dan....who holds the keys

She Flies

Although her cage was lined with feathers, bright
and soft, she mourned, as only caged birds mourn
when all their bedding comes from feathers torn
in fear - when all their fears are fears of flight,
when all their predators walk at night -
and when, safe locked inside life's cage, and worn
thin by life's long rage, they nest alone in fright.

Through tarnished bars of ornate lace, day-light
is dawning, full of grace, and someone knows
why this bird sings (though only one can hear
her voice) So desperately the trained bird tries,
each word a strangled, sweetened cry that flows
from choice that's clearly chained, but not by fear,
(for fear's untamed) - and safely reined, she flies.