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The Gift.

The Gift

   Caged for so long,
   you take less space
   you speak softer
   you try to look prettier

   But yours was a wildness
   Can you contain
   a river in a tin cup?

   You are crazy, he says
   Medicates your spirit
   to tame

   But can the bulbul
   who soars free
   sing in captivity?

   Your feathers fell
   The river ran dry
   Your song, a mere croak

   The cage was home

   One day, the cage opened
   He found another
   river to swim in,
   another forest
   to wander in

   Terrified by this gift,
   you stayed in the cage
   until you started
   loving yourself

   You are the glint of sunlight
   on a pickerel's tail
   You are the curve
   of an unknown path

   You are your own
   perfect gift. You are
   your own perfect
   gift

Jhilmil Breckenridge

PhD Student, Poet, Writer & Activist, Founder and Managing Trustee of the Bhor Foundation Email: jhilmilbreckenridge@gmail.com | Twitter: @jhilmilspirit

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Title Annotation:spotlight
Publication:Arrows For Change
Article Type:Poem
Date:Dec 1, 2017
Words:150
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