4.6.22 // My Cage

My Cage.
.
When you came to me I was caged.
.
I was pacing behind the bars, but the cage wasn't locked.
.
It didn't have to be, I kept myself in there myself...
.
Afraid of who I would be if the bars no longer marred my appearance or my vision.
.
I felt safe in the cage that held me.
.
Yet, I still paced. Guarded and held, yet unfilled and curious.
.
You saw me behind the bars, but they didn't bother you. You're used to seeing us in cages. Maybe that's because the steel bars were made by one of your long distant forefathers...
.
But, one day I stopped pacing and I stepped out from the bars that only metaphorically held me back.
.
And for once I saw myself unmarred. For once I saw the world with clear vision. There are so many more cages around me, with so many more people in them. Some of them unlocked, some of them locked, some of them diligently guarded.
.
Why? Fear. Because if we were all uncaged and free then the status quo who are our captors would no longer be in power and the world would look, feel, and exist differently.
.
I can tell some days that even my uncaging makes you uncomfortable. Because who I am when I am free of captivity is different, challenging, and wild.
.
But your discomfort does not justify cages of expectation.
.
And while I had the privilege to walk away from the bars that held me, knowing others are still being held, often against their wills, enrages a fire so deep inside of me.
.
A fire that burns down status quos and encourages cageless change.