I know why the caged bird sings - Part II

Seaweeds were shivering around my sanded ankles, rampant waves were glazing my porcelain hips, the warm wind was slashing my fiery mane and I stood still…

I stood still, motionless, breathless watching its rusty nails sink in my skin. It came to me, slicing the sky’s silvered lining, raping the stars and braving the nascent storm. An emerald coat shone its wings, its eyes were colored by the deepest blue and its raging soul by blinding reds. It soared like a hawk and dived like an eagle, it came from nowhere but was heading everywhere.

I stood still, frozen, gasping, while it laid its head on my palm because in order to see it was necessary to become part of the silence. I tried caressing its glistening black feathers but with a look he begged me not to because the bird of paradise alights only upon the hand that does not grasp.

Suddenly I remembered.

I remembered the days when I was young and so were you and we used to light walls with our wild laughs and our faces covered with chocolate dust.
I remembered the deceptions, and the lessons learnt through the curves of this so called life where love = evol = evil = live.
I remember those nights I was alone, sewing myself back up, wiping my fears because life isn’t what I thought it was.
I remember the full moon setting in the sky full of lies as I felt shrugged an misplaced.
I remember the way the buildings looked lit by the light why I sat on my bed my head back down.
I remembered my falls and my rises, my won and sometimes lost battles.
I remembered trying to draw wings, to untie my feet, to free myself from danger but unfortunately to no avail.
I remember the sour feeling of powerlessness, unable to save a life, he, the one star today in my heart that keeps on burning so brightly no matter what.
And so I remembered all of this but it belongs to time's past. And so I stood still.

It stood still, its head laying on my palm, its golden beak on my fingers. Then, lifted its wings gently, brushed my cheeks and kissed my lips sliding back into my body, its cage.
My body was its cage, that deprived it from its wanderlust, its freedom.

The caged bird sings of memory, of “I remember”.

SN