Who claps for the bird in the cage? Who kills the bird with his bare hands, then denies it, choking on feathers and bones? Who opens the metal door and demands applause for releasing what has already been slaughtered? Freedom is not a day. Restoration of liberty is not a celebration. It’s a time to fall to our knees, to realize the hard ground we are kneeling on is made of ash and bones, the hour to hold up the bones and confront them one by one: a finger, a foot, a rib. Here was a body, a life. Now is the moment to stare shame straight in the eye and name it. Freedom is not a day, not state of mind, not even an open door. It is blood written on the body. A taser in the shape of a gun. The consequences of a knee on a neck. Freedom is a concept so devastating we need a name for it, a word for something as basic as breathing, something that springs into being only when it has been taken away. You cannot paste the gentle feathers back onto a broken bird. It does not matter if it did not die by your own hand. It does not matter if you unlocked the cell yourself. The only way forward is to to beg forgiveness, make restitution, pray for wisdom, actually crush the cage.
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This is one of the most powerful poems I have ever read. Suzanna sees the big picture, and delivers a gut punch to the privileged. Her imagery is brilliant, and profound. Unfortunately, those in power who need to read it, won't. Resist, but teach those willing to learn. Suzanna de Baca is one of the best poets in the Americas. Her work--her truths--unites us, if you are willing to seek the truth.
Susanna, a breathtaking poem that can wake us up. It’s easy to celebrate these days without feeling the import in our poems.