Roadblock to our tales of freedom
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
- Maya Angelou
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
- Maya Angelou
It can be a gift-wrap. It can be golden. It can look a lot like a home - camouflaging is cardinal to cages, secondary only to its function of restriction. In days clouded with seemingly fashionable traps of apathy and violence, the question is, do we recognise our cages? More importantly, do we want to break out of them?
As we explore our shrinking spaces of dissent and liberation, let's take a while to align our thoughts on the cages made of stone, steel, identity, hate and what not, that seems to surround us. Maybe once we've recognised those cages, we may be able to bring in more authentic tales of freedom and appreciate the struggles for liberation.
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