Oh wounded bird. Will you ever fly again, and will it be a spectacular flight of overcoming or will it be a flight home?
Oh wounded bird you are still so young. So full of life that has been misplaced. Why are your wings held to your sides?
Who holds them there?
What unseen thing forces you to deviate from your nature?
To spend your life sitting on that branch without even a nest only to watch the world around you move on,
never stopping yet …..you can not do what you long for. To fly.
Oh wounded bird, your soul longs to feel the warmth of the sun, the fresh air against your feathers,
and your wings stretched wide in a flight of freedom.
Oh little bird, tuck yourself back against the tree, hide yourself in the leaves,
and cover yourself for the night. Tomorrow is another day.
Perhaps tomorrow you will take off and never look back.