Caged Eagle
I once flew above treetops through endless sky
But in this small wire cage I can’t even fly
My claws used to catch prey on the forest floor
But now I cannot hunt like I did before
I can barely take three steps with this chain on my feet
And then there’s the racket of roars, hoots, and bleats
The other animals too are enclosed in small pens
Much smaller than their natural forests, caves or dens
I stare contemptuously at the ogling eyes outside
Who look at me, shrug, and then pass me by
Sometimes the zookeeper puts me on his arm
He makes sure to tie the rope tight so I won’t cause anyone harm
“The majestic eagle!” he says in a booming voice
I sit quietly there since I have no other choice
I ruffle my feathers, and he feeds me a rat
The crowd watches and claps, the zookeeper bows and takes off his hat
He invites the fat, grubby fingered children to touch my wings
They pose with me for their parents, blinding me with bright flashy things
Then the show’s over, and I’m in my cage once more
Another mouse is shoved down my throat as the zookeeper locks the door