The Ragged Rich Prisoner: or The Thing With Feathers | Teen Ink

The Ragged Rich Prisoner: or The Thing With Feathers

March 26, 2010
By Valkeryie BRONZE, Okc, Oklahoma
Valkeryie BRONZE, Okc, Oklahoma
2 articles 0 photos 15 comments

My skies are gray and low, heavy and oppressive, but it is a beautiful darkness that envelopes me. You can almost taste the shuddering clouds, the reluctant, vengeful downpour within. I can hear the silent sleeping floods in the storm drains, what's left of the sky's previous tears.

I want to run. I want to feel my feet slap the asphalt. I want to hear the rhythm, the incessant roar, of my blood in my ears and the thunderstorm. I am Mercury, my wings are on my heels. I crave escape, a tattered bird in a diamond cage.

I almost believe in my dreams, sometimes. I believe that I can run in the rain, that I can cover myself with clouds and sleep. The sleep of the grateful weary, of the tired and ragged soul. The slumber of the hopeful heart.

I am The Hopeful Bird, my dream of flight just out of reach. I am the voice of the Flightless Imprisoned, the ones who have given up. Yes, there is a lock on my cage, but its jewels are made of iron, and iron turns to bloody rust, the russet of decay. Iron weakens, with each passing year.

I dream of flight, and I believe in dreams.


The author's comments:
You know Emily Dickinson's Poem,
"Hope is the Thing With Feathers"?

Yeah.

Also, I sorta envisioned some rich girl trapped in the confines of society. Hence the "diamond cage".

Metaphoric Flightless bird.

But feel free to interpret it the way you want!

Thanks, V.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.