Back from the dead
the earth feels deep and rich
under my palm,
flowers sprouting
at every bit of brown my fingers touch,
my wings rejoice
to have been pulled
from the wicked claws of dreary misuse
into broad daylight again,
I see the stars,
and oh,
they've crawled out
from night's dark smiles.
it's a pity man will never know
that in caging himself,
he set so many free.