Maya , you are looking us down
Singing the freedom of far skies.
Maya , you are such an Angelow.
Our feet are tied ,wings clipped.
Our self- trills are painful to hear
In our caged ears,dipped bodies.
Freedom is an illusion ,our maya
The mirage that a sky constructs
On our freedom to walk and talk.
When we walk and talk freedom
Our clumsy arms reach the skies
As if they were our clipped wings,
The feathers that came unstuck
And fell through the layers of air.
(Remembering Maya Angelow’s poem The Caged Bird)