She soared where sunlight kissed the blue,
With wings like whispers cutting through.
The trees would hush, their branches lean,
To watch her carve the dark between.

And those so privileged to see,

Presumed that she was flying free,
No tethered dream, no cage, no chain,
She danced between the drops of rain.

But watchers never saw her land,
Nor rest upon the earth’s warm hand.
No home, no perch, no place to fall,
The price of freedom? Nothing at all.

They called her free, they called her wise,
A soul too vast for earthbound ties.
But none could see behind her flight,
The frantic beat, the edge of fright.

Her wings were stained from battles past,
Each dawn she thought might be her last.

She soared not out of joy or grace,
But fleeing still, some dark, past place.

No cage held her that we could see,

But it didn’t mean that she was free.

For a prison is a prison still,

If the captive has lost all free will.