I never knew how a single glance could knock me off my feet, or how a simple gesture could have my face burning for days. I never knew a person could be touched so gently by a slight shift in a voice, when it is only you and them in the crisp midnight air.
Is this how the flowers feel when the wind brushes by them? Swaying a little from the rush of such softness. When butterflies emerge, do they feel the same relief I do in these moments of freedom?
I have been a bird in a cage. I have fluttered about, sang, and danced within the confines of my misery. I even decorated my prison and called it home, masterfully masking misery with contentment.
All it took was a little time for the bars to rust—a reminder of what lies beneath the desperate paint.
The faux plants and micro-comforts were first to fall away. Then, suddenly, there were no more songs to soothe me. My voice had become hoarse from my cries, and then there was silence. The hinges had come off... the gate swung to and fro. Then down it went, clattering on the soft ground of a land I believe I had never seen before.
I remained. Frozen. Immobilized by the fresh winds of opportunity. Whispers seeped through the bars of my cage as it attempted to shrink around me, encroaching little by little.
A hard blink.
I was falling.
It was an eternity—an eternity of thorny branches playing hot potato with me as I fell.
The landing came softly, almost unnoticeably. Though the earth beneath me was foreign, the flat, unwavering ground was instantly comforting. A particular warmth emanates from below. I felt a slight ruffling in my feathers from forces I can only assume surround me, despite lacking the clarity to see them.
My hands bleed and my body is covered in mud and bruises from the toils of the war I have been waging. These scars which have branded me, ever-burning memories, fade slowly with every cotton candy kiss he rests upon them. Every quiet step I take away from the shadow of my cage, still hanging high in its gloomy clouds, fills my lungs with fresh air. I have never breathed before, I realize. I have never dug my toes into the dirt or smelled the grass after a rain—not like I do these days.
Nowadays, I find myself smiling ear to ear at the simplest things. From the way my son holds up his little finger and demands I wait, to the sweet compliment from a stranger who could have passed by silently but chose not to. Slight shifts in the wind invite me to pause and listen for a moment. I have found myself merely observing the world, instead of trudging through the mud with my hands folded over my eyes because I could not possibly take in anything more.
In all my years, the world has never been so colorful and fresh.
Like the pressure releasing from your body after a tough workout, my heart relinquishes the stress that restrained it. Beating out for all to hear, it has reclaimed its place on my sleeve. It puts a pep in my step, and I have a new rhythm to follow.