Canyons and Chasms: Facing the Unknown

As I gazed out of my trapezoid casement windows, I noticed a tiny red-throated finch sitting alone in the laurel tree. It flitted from branch to branch struggling to master the art of flying. I judged the bird; after all, birds are innate flyers my mind mocked. It flapped and flailed from the windowsill to the branch, to a leaf and back to the windowsill. It came to the highest eave, fluffed its plumage, and burrowed its head to rest.

This beautiful creature reminded me of an important spiritual bridge: embracing the unknown. When the finch rose this morning, it did not know whether or not it would return to the nest a successful flyer. It did not know whether it would taste the air of freedom or remain a prisoner to its current predicament. All it knew was its present moment.

We are all consumed with moments of unknowing. Intrinsically hidden and tucked out of sight, at the base of the unknown, is fear. For our finch, we imagine the fears it may feel. Perhaps it is a fear of falling, of being damaged, or even of not knowing where to go should it succeed.

Life’s journeys are demanding. As humans striving for acceptance and love, we place additional pressures upon ourselves to perform better and stronger than ever before. We push ourselves to cross into the unknown before we even have a chance to slow down and explore what that unknown is. We leap into chasms and canyons without bottom and are filled with dread when we realize how deep we are in.

As I ponder this, a gentle peck upon the window pulls me back into the present. I smile and realize that even from our chasms, when faith is hanging dangerously by a thread, the Creator is always present. It is in these tiny moments where cultivating gratefulness triggers a spark of hope. Like the path the finch traverses, crossing those unknown paths means simply reaffirming our faith in that spiritual Source which is greater than ourselves.

DNKG Unknown © 2014

Why the caged bird sings: A personal poetry tribute to Dr. Maya Angelou

In a world torn between color,

lived and learned between the

black and white hues of 

Everyday. 

a Mother, a Trailblazer, a Poetess
born from the strife,

Who gave rise from the ashes.

Who gave birth from a watery grave.

Who gave voice to the other caged birds.

In a world still torn between color,

lived and learned between the

sophisticated hues of grays; 
between religion, politics, and social strata.

Everyday

a caged bird sings

a mighty song it sings of its own.

A song inspired by the original bird

who feared not; who sang and sung 

Until its lungs no longer could,

Until its breath, panting, matched its heart,

Until its heart sung to its content,
Until its light was borrowed by the Great Equalizer.

And what have we birds known of

atrocities of Time? 
So many, too young,
to know the Power of her rhyme. 

To what atrocities have we accounted for
of broken bodies

of lost loves

of fragmented hearts
of saddened homes.

Would we brave the burn of the tyrant, 
so courageously stare down the eyes 
that abhor without knowing why?

Would we, so valiantly? 
Just to sing our song,
a song of Release?

That caged bird lived her love,
so all others would know what living a life of love meant. 

That caged bird loved when love seemingly wasn't an option, 

 so all others would know love could heal all wounds.

That caged bird healed through the prose of her life, 
so all others would know how. 

Why does the caged bird sing? 
She sang for her. 
She sang for you. 
She sang for me. 
She sang for love. 
She sang for the tough life.
She sang for sanity in an insane world. 
She sang for colors like her.
She sang when being human wasn't humane.
She sang for freedom from oppression. 
From enslavement. 
For us, as Humankind.

She sang to survive. 

She sang to feel alive. 
She sang because it's the one thing they couldn't break. 
She sang because it's the only thing they couldn't take. 
She sang because her song had to be sung.

I understand why the caged bird sings
in my heart and in my soul
she sings and sings and sings
for that is what a caged bird must do
to breathe, to live, or to die for its
songs

I know why the caged bird sings.

DNKG  Why the caged bird sings: A personal poetry tribute to Dr. Maya Angelou ©