Words are Knives

Inner Flight

The bird inside me flew-
Over the forest, over the sea-
Soaring through the endless space
Gliding through the open sky

Then-
The hunter's net, unseen-
Forbidding passage, snaring wings-
Clutched at me with a cold embrace.

A bent old cage to now call home-
Gone was the forest, gone was the loam.
Restricting more than Death himself
Drooping downward, my heart and wings sank

But then-
My spirit deep within-
Unrestrained, lifts up again
And  begins to search
For alternatives to flight

And what cage of earthly form-
Iron or steel, the wind or storm-
Can shackle to the earth my boundless heart-
And stop it from unfettered flight?

My freedom, yes, may lie within-
But only sorrow, only sin-
Can clip the wings of my heart
And restain my flight.

Only chains of my own
Restrain my inner flight.