trapped

sometimes i feel like a caged bird…the last few days, i’ve been feeling this way.  idk if it’s the shorter days or what (it starts to get dark around here at 6:30-ish!) or some general malaise, but i can’t help feeling, well, not quite 100%.

i mean, physically, i am fine.  my knee, which i had injured early summer, is completely healed, thanks to my diligent yoga practice. 

but inwardly,  i must confess i am restless…  i want so much to do what  my heart truly desires…not be bound by so many obligations and duties.  i feel like i’m being held back from doing what i truly & passionately love…something greater than what i am doing right now.  i want to spend my waking hours doing “work” that doesn’t feel like “work”— something that encapsulates my heart & soul…not “busy work”  that merely is a means to pay bills.  you see, i feel stifled at this moment. as if  i were not  reaching my true potential or something.  i feel like i am doing mediocre work at best.  i want desperately to be the real “ME”,  the me who is looking to do great work with equally great passion.   idk, it’s hard for me to even explain what i mean. 

perhaps this poem by maya angelou, one of my favorite poets, will help you better understand what i am going thru right now.

(photo credit: “caged bird” by penelope dullaghan (c) 2005)

Caged Bird

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.

Maya Angelou

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