I Know Why The Caged Bird Screams



In my late twenties I started feeling like a bird in a cage. I got folks staring at me, pulling at my feathers, feeding me what they felt I was hungry or thirsty for and usually I was walking around and flapping in my own shit. I couldn’t escape the cage I was in and I was trapped. Contrary to my own belief, the cage I was in was constructed by my own design. I put myself in this cage and I had no one to blame but myself. One day I clung to the bars and saw what was inscribed on them. Each bar told a story.

Times of regret…

Being a victim of my peers…

Ignoring my finances…

Not forgiving myself…

Resentment of my family members…

Missed opportunities…

Unrequited loves…

Some things were new like fresh shiny gold and I wonder why I was enamored with this new circumstance. It was my recent complaints, concerns and fears. The others were old and rusted by the oxidation delivered from years of tears and sweat. All the nights I cried myself to sleep all the sweat from running from the ones that shamed and broke me. At one point I could poke my head out of my cage and get fresh air and even get some sun.

By the time I had reached twenty-eight the bars of my cage had become so compacted and tight and tangled. That it was only glimmers of light shining in as if I was being swallowed into darkness and I will admit it was a very dark time.

Outside this cage I could hear the voices of three people who literally gave me the drive to render myself free of this imprisonment. One of my sister, my best female friend, and my current lover, they were the only people who knew everything that was going on in my life. They knew all the naughty bits, all the things I tried to hide, even from myself.

Without these people around you to trust in these times, you trust no one. You think everyone is looking to cage you even more than what you already are. You haphazardly dodge friends, events, and relationships because you feel people are going to see for who you really are. Honestly before the cage is a veil of bullshit, but that’s not everyone and that’s another blog, but some of us who are not skilled enough to hide our true hurts in public. Deal with them very deeply in private.

Getting freed from my own cage was no easy task. I had to remove the bars that were easier to break. The simple shit of things that I was holding onto that I damn sure had no business in doing so. They often were friends for me. I had to let go of everyone around me who was keep the hurt alive and seemingly these people rattled my cage more than I should have let them. Some things I won’t public discuss here yet, but I know me. They are coming.

One of the hardest things on my cage that was holding me in was an ex. We all have an ex. Whether they were the one we loved and got away or the one that scorned us and inadvertently denied us the ability to love for a time. One thing I have learned in my thirties is about self-preservation. I don’t sit on my bad times for long I get to the nitty gritty of it and come to a solution. What you have to do is forgive them and forgive yourself (I sound like a Madea movie). No one is asking you to redeem them back into your life but you have to let go and let God sort out the rest (definitely a Madea movie). I had both exes before I was thirty. One I loved and one I strongly disliked. Took me years to get over the one I loved and I definitely wanted to find the other one and ole school molly-wop the fuck out of the other, but I eventually had to move on

I will admit that I am still caged by the mistakes of my past. Some of these things I will silently bare for the rest of my life others I know have a finite schedule on them and they will soon dissipate and never be seen again.

I hope by the time I am thirty-five that most when I can reach out between the bars and grab the handle and escape and to leave all of it all and except my time well served. Don’t let anyone fool you. Only idiots go back to jail twice for the same thing. Ultimately we have to learn our lesson and while we are in our cages we shouldn’t be taking notes on what not to do again.

Peace and Hair Grease,



3 thoughts on “I Know Why The Caged Bird Screams

  1. Loved this post. I managed to grease myself up and slip through the bars. That’s a fete with all of this dunk I have, which means I am a mutant…which means I have magical powers. This of course is why you love me. But I have been caged, screaming. Now I am free.

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