i have always wondered about the strange mercy of cages. we take a bird into our hands, teach it the shape of our kindness, give it a name, give it a place to sleep. and then, sometimes, we open the door. we watch it rise into the sky as if we have given it freedom. we watch it disappear beyond the rooftops, beyond our reach, beyond the walls we built for it. and when it returns, we call it love. we close the door again. perhaps this is the cruelty of humans, that we mistake possession for protection, and captivity for care. we want to see them fly, but only as far as we can bear to lose them. we want their freedom, so long as it eventually brings them back to us. i thought of this when two birds found their way onto my balcony. one came to me wounded, the other fell from the sky. i gave them water. i gave them food. i gave them a place to rest. and when they were strong enough, i let them go. perhaps that is the difference between loving a living thing and loving the feeling of having it. some creatures are only meant to pass through our hands. we may shelter them. we may tend to their wounds. we may even save them. but we were never meant to own the sky. this piece is for the birds that fall, the birds we hold, and the birds we must learn to let go.