5

June 10, 1985 at 6:21 pm (Featured Poems, Poetry, Riddles)

What kind of songbird am I, anyway?
I, who have never sat in a tree
or pecked at the bark of a pine.
I, who have never nested in forest
or flown with the wind, smelling the excitement
of a flock of birds on wing.

— Why dream? I couldn’t fly anyway.
I am a captive of man.

Man
who granted me a voice
only to deny me a song of my own.
Who bids me to sing at his pleasure
running me around
until I think I must finally run out of breath.
Until I wish I could die.
Man
he put me in a rut and left me there.
And I can’t escape.

I’m not even caged.

I must be one of Hugo’s miserables.
I am a songbird,
but there is no song in my heart.

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