Little White Bird

Here, hold a mirror. Sit. Let me tell you what I see- hush- just listen. You are a bird- beautiful, soft, white feathers, long graceful wings. You are flying and flying, round and round a cage. It’s a tall, wrought iron cage, circular and unforgiving. You are flying. Sometimes you are frantic and you flap about it and other times, you are defeated. Always, always, gazing through the bars, at the world within. I wonder what you see. I wonder why you do this.

And I sit and watch you, day after day, night after night. You scream in your dreams, turning side to side under the full moon. The stars shine and the sun shines and the clouds scurry across the sky as blue as the precious stones of the earth, and yet you turn side to side in your restlessness. And I sit and watch. What are you searching for? What face do you want, white bird, in the mirror you fail to see? What door do you want in this cage you so endlessly circle? It is an empty cage. What do you search for?

I call you to me. A soft hiss, a twitter, a gentle lifting of the fingers in invitation. Stop your circling and look around- just for one second look around. Your soft, delicate wings sigh in exhaustion. Your feathers are damp with sweat. There are tears in your beautiful, ancient, timeless eyes, looking, ever looking, for what you cannot see. You are lost in the psychedelic colours and sounds and stories of your own making little bird- just for a moment, see as I do. Just open your eyes. There is simply you, and simply the cage, and for all my quavering you will not look around until you are ready.

My soft, white, beautiful bird- do you know how magnificent you are? If you could for one moment tear your eyes away from the fireworks you are so mesmerised with, the light will stop blinding you. You are frantic and you search for the cure everywhere except the tears inside your own eyes. How can I not cry along with you? You are not helpless. You are not powerless. Your answers are not in the running and the searching and the flailing. Your answers are in the stillness and the surrender. There is no answer inside that cage you so endlessly worship.

Turn around- look at me. I sit here and I wait for you, under the open heavens and the cleansing rain. I sit on the soft earth amidst the scent of grass and tall wildflowers. I sit in the scent of the sunlight. I sit here and I wait for you to close your eyes to the madness you hold tight to and turn my way. You are beautiful and you are magnificent, and you are circling a cage- from the outside.

Come, see me. See your answers in the reflection of your own tears. Be free.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s