Heart of Wings

Who could enslave a man, if

his heart was made of wings?

Tearing the barriers, searing he rose

to jolt the mighty oppressor’s zing.

Beckoned by the sea from far

he crossed the miles with dreams of star.

The road ahead was bleak

but unstoppable with blazing incandescence at peak,

he marched to set the golden bird free.

With blood of fire, he fought for respair,

sacrificed his blood in prayer

to fetch his motherland fragrance of freedom flowers.

Oh, how it would have smelt sweeter

if the offering was made by alive hands of its seeker.