~ maya angelou ~
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns 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.
why a dead bird?
for hope ~ in the shine of her eyes, the curl of her still gripping talons
for despair ~ folded in her cold body, pressed into the cold earth
for purpose ~ held tightly in her closed beak, cloaked in black for all to see.
this season's not about giving ... or getting ... or consuming ... or pity ... or making up for a year's worth of egocentric, complacent and inconsiderate existence. its about ... finding the light. and remembering that it will not shine forever.
find your light. treasure it. share it. before it extinguishes itself.
This means challenging my self to compassionate, encouraging, genuine and hostile-free exchanges. It also means contemplating my reaction to the thoughts, feelings and expressions of others, prior to acting upon them. 
