WRITING: Soar

I've always wished I could fly. I remember this dream I had some years ago and I could fly. It felt so real. I remember I'd start off by sprinting, then jump into the air and soar. One word to describe it, awesome. There's just something about flying. If I were to have a superpower, it would definitely be flight. 

In my high school Literature class, we briefly studied I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou.  I wouldn't say I'm interested in poetry per se but this poem spoke to me. Call me crazy but I want to be like the free bird-I want to fly. Birds are so lucky. If you read the poem, you'll understand that two birds are being talked about, although it's hypothetically speaking. I'll take the poem as it is on the surface. 

Unlike the free bird, the caged bird does not chirp happily. No, it is caged and longs for something it never had. It has been hindered from flying. I'm that bird. I long for something I've never experienced. I want to fly. I want to soar. 

Here I am, a human, wishing to fly. If I could, even for a day, I'd jump at the opportunity. For a few years now, I'd say three, I've been wishing to go skydiving. Call me the extremist, lol. The first really extreme sport I did was slide across a gorge back in my home country. Looking down, I had a quick thought of what would happen if the cord snapped. I pushed it away though...it's all about the thrill. Okay, I think I'm getting carried away here.

Back to skydiving. I want to feel the wind. I want to have an undistorted view. I want to see what the birds see. Unlike flying, which normally involves soaring I'd be plunging downwards. It's the closest I could get to flying so I'll take what I can get. Hopefully, I'll get to do it.......soon.


I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill 
for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom. 


Maya Angelou