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dovetail by Sachiko Rivamoute

The Bird

by Blair Bowers

The fear of revealing myself looks like a bird in a cage.

Wings clipped like my truth:

I am not the writer I once was;

No longer the little girl with a notebook in the back of

a classroom, writing story after story.

Once was a baby bird,

First feeling the freedom of an artist,

Learning to write was when I learned to fly.

Yet the bird I have become, the poet I have become

flying into this cage of my own creation

Faulty feathers trapping me inside,

Year after year I have become a poet

too afraid to be anything else.

I wonder if I can’t tell stories anymore

From my flocking feathers, beak sewn shut

no longer being able to break free of these chains and clichés.

I want to be let free, a paradox of my own words

I am begging to be let free. Clipped wings and all.

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