“There’s a reason for the cage of ribs around our hearts. There’s a secret that never started as one but in forgetting, became the one we keep from ourselves. That our ribcage is a bird cage, rusted metal and squeaking hinge, and our heart is a bird. Our memories line the bottom of our swinging cage like newspaper and torn shreds of torn wishes, the steady wing beat echoes in the hollow of our chest. Listen to the sound, the frantic and desperate flapping when our heart, our bird finds another and feels the wind from their wings stretched and hopeful. Listen to the sound when their song becomes our song and they sing together. Can we open the gates to these rib cages and with message wrapped tight to feet send our birds out to explore? Will we feel our birds when they fall madly in love with the world, with their own flight, with another? Will we have the courage to keep those gates open and let our birds fly? Are we given the keys to these gates, are they built in and left dangling around our necks or are they hidden with the secret that never started as one but in forgetting became the one that we still keep from ourselves? Will we always? Our ribs ache for longer than we can admit and somehow, sometimes we lose those keys to those gates and those hearts those birds forget how to fly. We cannot let our birds fall with their feathers ancient and loose with a lack of use; we cannot let them bury themselves in the memories the torn shreds of torn wishes that line the bottoms of these rib cages. Reach into your chest and tear the gates down shake life into your heart and throw it to the air. Let falling become flying because they never forget how. Let falling become flying and don’t wait, never wait for your bird to come home. There’s no reason for the cage of ribs around our hearts.”
(Tyler Knott Gregson)
(pic)
Irma'sKiss 
