The Bird in Your Chest Wants to Fly

And if she cannot fly, she wants to warble. Will you let her?

You and I are born with a bird, a bird unique to us, sleeping in the gently- feathered nest of our souls.

For some, she’s a raptor, a condor, a hawk, a hunter.

For others, she’s an albatross, capable of thousands of miles over endless ocean, aloft on the winds, free above all earthly bounds.

For more, she is a songbird, sweet in tone, delicate in nature.

She lives in all of us.

For some she never stirs. For too many, the bird dies without ever having awakened, sleeping ever in the heart, sometimes buried under resentment.

For most, beneath heavy layers of fear and trepidation. Her songs are stilled by the heavy weight of excuses, reasons, avoidance.

Somedays.

She’s born to fly. Born to sing. For some, both.

Every human heart has a bird, the work we came here to do, the bird whose song sends us soaring.

When you have cradled, loved, and given voice and wing to your bird,

you know it.

Everything you do has wings.

You soar on the knowledge that who you are and what you are doing is what you came here to do.

Have you birthed your bird?

Nourished her, invited her to fly?

Let her song inform your life?

The sky is waiting.

With thanks for the writing prompt to Rasheed Hooda.