The Secret (Part 1)

It is nighttime
and I feel this
burden weighing
me down,
counterbalance
to crisp air that
livens spirit.

I just want to fly like
nightbirds fly,
smooth and resolute
on air currents,

for a meal,
for exercise,
for no reason
whatsoever,
apparent to
anybody else,
just to glide
and be at peace,
an object with
fewer faces.

But I cannot.

I am stuck,
unable to fly
and yet not rooted
to the Earth,
somehow inorganic,
just walking
erratically on the surface,
gravel giving under my
feet and shoal,
shifting as I step:

perhaps this is what
humanity is after all,
burdened by the
weight of injustices.

My chains?
A secret I know
I must tell
and yet every time
I try to let the words
escape,

free form
butterfly dance,

this contorted
look dominates
my faces, soft
features lost
to a monstrosity,

and I fall silent.