Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Sympathy

by: Paul Laurence Dunbar

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

    When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;   

When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,   

And the river flows like a stream of glass;

    When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,   

And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—

I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing

    Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;   

For he must fly back to his perch and cling   

When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;

    And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars   

And they pulse again with a keener sting—

I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,

    When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—

When he beats his bars and he would be free;

It is not a carol of joy or glee,

    But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,   

But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—

I know why the caged bird sings!

Caged Bird by Maya Angelou

Caged Bird
by: Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind   
and floats downstream   
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and   
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   
with a fearful trill   
of things unknown   
but longed for still   
and his tune is heard   
on the distant hill   
for the caged bird   
sings of freedom.

Please Remember

When you stop seeing other human beings as people, it is easier to dismiss them.

If war has taught us anything, it has taught us this.

Or at least it should have.

I read a story today about how Martin Luther King Jr. and his wife, Corretta, went to India for a whole month.  There, a caste system still exists to this day in which there were a class of people known as "untouchables."  (They're called the Scheduled Caste these days, and despite laws that prevent discrimination based on caste, it still occurs.)  The story related how King was introduced to a class of young students at one point as "a fellow untouchable."  At first, it bothered him.  The label is one that I found myself even cringing at a bit when I thought about how I would feel if I were called such.  But when he realized that black people in America were this lowest class (as the untouchables were in India,) he understood why the untouchables of India embraced him as such.  And he realized that the struggles they both faced were, in fact, very similar.

As we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day here in the United States, I think it is important to confront our own biases about others--to look at how we judge people, and to realize that we are all human.

What we do to the least of our brothers and sisters, we do to all.  So, when we actively hate or seek to harm others, we are hating and harming ourselves.

Today, ...please remember that.

A Sad Farwell

There is something peculiar about mourning someone you have never known--being sad that their voice is gone from a world in which you've never really heard it, only imagined it in your heart as tears roll down your cheeks while reading words that they wrote.  It happened some time ago with Anne McCaffrey for me, and today I find myself crying for the death of Maya Angelou.