The Bird

From the moment she hatched
She was meant to fly
The blue sky drew her like a magnet
But before her wings had a chance
She got hurt

To fly free and high
She was meant to be
But on the ground like a worm she stayed
Squirming, fluttering, hiding

She saw the gentle hands
That tried to take hold of her
But so many hands have hurt her
That she distrusted the gentle hands

One fateful day
Those pursuing gentle hands
Came towards her again
She lost it
For every time she was hurt
She attacked those hands

She pecked and flung herself at them
Till she was covered in blood
And the hands were still
Exhausted she lay
For the first time in the shelter
Of the now still cold hands

Time passed and something stirred
She felt something warm
Gently stroking her head
In astonishment she gazed
As the gentle hands came back to life

They picked her up
Covered her broken, bloody feathers
She could feel the power throbbing
Through her with every heart beat

Suddenly the hands opened up
She saw the clear blue sky
The one her heart longed for
And for the first time felt a glimmer of hope

Then she was thrown up high
Into a life she only dreamed of
In panic she fluttered her wings
In fear she closed her eyes
Flight….
The bird was flying
She was whole!

She circled, relishing the freedom
The sheer joy of being
What she was meant to be
Then she went back
To the gentle hands whose life
Was now her own