Hands And Birds Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is something good in being free

when like birds we make the impression that we own the sky
that we know how to live in there

but the sky can never be our home
mortals as we are and birds have claws designed for land

we go back to our past and find out that once there was a home there
that there is also something good in there

we go from here to there and in sum it makes the proper comparisons

it comes sometimes like a memoir
that there is also comfort in some instances of our unfreedoms

the comfort of warm fire imprisoned in our heart
the assurances of the walls of the house

the hold that we give to the railings of the stairs
each step each trust when we feel that our hands cannot float in the air forever.