I try to fly, yet it pulls me down
I learn to walk, but I am not made for such
Your wings are broken,
Your feathers are not beautifully coloured,
The other birds said to me.

Out of shame and lost in distress, I hide my face.
An ugly bird, not wanted by the flocks.
Intimated by the peacock, pushed aside by canaries
I am forced to join the vultures,
Who even they in their ugliness Can fly.

My talons are unsharpened, my beak broken
My nest empty, devoid of guest
I stay Alone and wallow in my pain
My prey becomes my friend, my only companion

But should I continue to till on fallow grounds?
Or listen more to the mockery of other birds
The sky is wide for every bird
and height tested by might of the wings

I took a step out of my nest and spread my wings
Breathing in the fresh air of grasses
I let my self fall from the highest tree top.
Not unto death as I hoped, but unto a flight
more beautiful than a thousand peacocks.

by one of our very best poets
Precious Abamba

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