The eagle has been caged,
Wings forcibly furled, while it slept,
It cries for the skies that are its domain,
It cries for the freedom to which it was born,
It cries in anger at the hard steel bars that surround it,
It cries for the memory of flight,
It cries for the lies of its captors,
For the death of rapture in this king of raptors,
It cries for the killing of its young,
It cries for the loss of its sisters, its brothers,
It cries for the tears in the eyes of others,
It cries for the weak that would normally take shelter beneath its powerful wings,
It cries for all of these things,
It cries tears of frustration and rage,
It cries for each sacred word on each sacred page,
But its wings are furled by bars of cold lying steel,
And rage and betrayal are all it can feel,
The eagle has been caged.

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