passage in the woods

i spit on a bird because it dares to have wings when i cannot. because it dares to possess freedom that is far beyond my reach. because, above everything else, it can run away at any given moment and that is a privilege i have been deprived of my entire life.

aren't we both animals, you and i? why do you fly above my head so shamelessly when i am leaving traces in the sand wherever i go? why must you remind me of my absolute lack of control over my presence on this earth? why do you not have the shackles i was born with?

why are you not enslaved, why are you not bound? i spit on you not because i wish to harm you, but because i know you will gracefully avoid my attack in flight; and that, on its own, makes me hate you even more.

silently, i push away yet another twig.

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