caged

sometimes i think of myself as a bird.

i think like a yellow finch.
quietly perched in my wooden cage.
it's a beautiful cage;
the wood has dulled and the wire spokes bow.
hand made, just for me.
there is plenty of space in my cage.
room for me to move, different levels for me to sit.
sit.
that's what i do mostly.
a door to my cage has been left open.
i watch it every day,
waiting for someone to come in.
i wait.
and even with the ability to fly, i can't.
even with the ability to feel the wind in my feathers, i don't.
and as days pass, the cage feels stronger.
the lemony golden color of me feels lackluster,
the song i sing has gone stale.
by my own devices, i've created a prison.
confined.
and as the moments pass, and as i stare at the door
waiting for someone to come in,
an idea.
no longer seeking the one to come in
but allowing myself to be the one that goes out.
for the prison in which i harbored my piteous doubts
was actually inviting me out to it's world.
sometimes i think of myself as a bird,
able to fly when others can not.