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Sad Fiction

“Mama, it hurts.”

“It’s okay, just hold on to me tight, and we’ll both be fine.”

“But Mama, I can’t see.”

“It’ll be fine, my darling, just let me hug you tightly, and no matter what happens, we’ll go through it together.”

***

Mama didn’t know that her face would be the last thing I saw. She didn’t know that her loving eyes would be the last thing that would reassure me. She didn’t know so many things.

But then, every day, I forgive her, even though it’s too late. Even though it’s not okay. 

But I wish I had forgiven her sooner.

I wish the last memory of her was us hugging each other, not me walking into the hospital, and crying over her, saying I was sorry, even though she was dead.

But dreams don’t always come true.

And that’s the harshest reality of life.

Because everyone has dreams; but it’s only the strong, pretty, talented, brave people who get their dreams fulfilled.

And that’s not me.

Do you hate me? Do you despise me? Then you’re no different than anyone I ever met. And that's okay; I didn’t expect any less.

Because people are harsh, just like the world. 

Everyone who’s pretty, talented, everyone who gets their dreams fulfilled, those are the free birds.

They get to fly in the wind, without fear or doubt. 

And me, I’m the caged bird.

My wings are clipped, and my feet are tied. I long for things unknown, but most of all, I long for freedom, like the free birds. 

But I’m kept in a “cage”, I’m restrained.

And you? You’re probably a free bird.

Cause’ I’m by myself, and there are no other caged birds in the world, except for me.

You? You don’t have a cage. You’re free to get lost, to wander the hills, the forests, the beaches.

But for me? My cage is like an attic with a locked door.

I can’t see anything, except through a small window.

And everything looks different through that window. 

It always does.

***

“Mama, what have you done?!”

“I did what’s best for you.”

“But I can’t see!”

“It’s best.”

***

Who am I? I always wonder. But sadly, I know exactly who I am.

A blind girl.

Oh, I’m sorry. Are you judgemental like the rest of the world? Then you better start hating me, real fast.

Because I’m not like the pretty girls, nor the talented girls, nor the strong girls.

I’m probably better off not alive.

Because who needs me? Who wants me?

No one.

And what can I do?

Nothing.

Absolutely.

 Nothing.

But it’s okay, you didn't make me who I am.

But who did? Mama?

I forgive her now, but I still wonder, why did she do it?

Did she hate me, like the rest of the world?

I once heard that if your father doesn’t love you, you did something really bad. But if your mother doesn’t love you……

My mother didn’t love me.

Why else would she have made me the way I am?

A blind, caged bird?

Cause’ I just want freedom.

Why didn’t she let me have freedom? Is freedom bad?

Or is it just the rest of the world?

***

“Why do you hate me, Mama?”

“I don’t hate you. It’s okay. We can both bear through it together.”

“But you do hate me! Why else would you do this to me?”

“It’s best.”

***

What is freedom?

Freedom is the ability to fly wherever you want, atop the trees, through the forests, or down the hills.

But it is also a privilege.

And sometimes, privileges aren’t used right. 

They’re beaten up and abused.

But is that the whole world?

Because if it is, then why is there freedom? Didn’t Mama know I wouldn’t mistreat it?

Or did she know something I don’t know?

What is freedom?

Freedom is independence.

But is that good, or bad?

Because what if that’s bad?

What if Mama just wanted me to stay my depending, happy self?

What if?

What if Mama just was trying to shield me from the harsh world?

Then what?

It still wouldn’t be best.

And it still isn’t OK.

Because I’m still stuck in my small attic, and no one is willing to push the key in a little and turn the knob.

Why?

Is everyone in the world just hateful?

Then what am I?

Not of the world?

Am I an alien?

An elf?

Or am I just a small, naive child, wanting someone to embrace me, and to look in my eye, even though I can’t see, and say,

“You are loved.”

Are you that person?

Or not?

Cause’ I want you to be that person.

Because I want everything to be alright.

Even though life isn’t like that, I still want everything to be alright, and I want to be loved.

Even though that’s not realistic, I still hope.

I will keep on hoping, until that day comes, when someone comes to my cage, looks at my clipped wings, and then at my tied feet, and unlocks the cage, lifts me gently from my cage, unties my feet, and lets me grow my strong wings again, and will say,

“Everything will be alright; just get strong again, and fly, fly like you’re a free bird because from now on, you are.”

***

Inspiration from a poem by Maya Angelou, called Caged Bird, down below.

     Caged Bird

            By:

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 sun 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.

July 07, 2021 18:15

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7 comments

Elia Christensen
21:04 Jul 20, 2021

Love the flashbacks <3

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Moriah Passero
13:01 Jul 21, 2021

thank you

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Arya Jackson
15:36 Jul 19, 2021

Real nice! I love the poem! It's a great touch!

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Moriah Passero
18:00 Jul 19, 2021

it is not my poem

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Moriah Passero
18:01 Jul 19, 2021

but thank you!

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Arya Jackson
16:42 Aug 13, 2021

I know it's not yours but it's still a pretty poem and I think its a great touch.

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Moriah Passero
18:19 Aug 13, 2021

Thank you!

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