Me and Kayce at the “Y”
True Happiness (part 4): "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou.
Yesterday we thought about happiness and found that the first state of all things is the highest good of all things. In other words, the first state of all creation is happiness.
When reading and thinking of The Bird for yesterday's post, the following poem came to mind and I feel I would be remiss if I did not stop to allow the poem to elaborate on that picture of the happiness of The Bird. (Side note: might there be more to Skynyrd's "Freebird" than meets theeye ear?).
Caged Bird (by Maya Angelou)
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
When reading and thinking of The Bird for yesterday's post, the following poem came to mind and I feel I would be remiss if I did not stop to allow the poem to elaborate on that picture of the happiness of The Bird. (Side note: might there be more to Skynyrd's "Freebird" than meets the
Caged Bird (by Maya Angelou)
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
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