The birds’ favorite songs, you do not hear,

For their most flamboyant music takes place when their wings are stretched

Above the trees, and they are smoking the opium of pure freedom.

It is healthy for the prisoner to have faith.

That one day he will again move about

Wherever he wants,

Feel the wondrous grit of life–

Less structured,

Find all wounds, debts paid.

I once asked a bird,

“How is it that you fly in this gravity

of darkness?”

She responded,

“Love lifts me.”


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