I am freedom.

I am freedom.

As an eagle, I awaken and stretch my wings as far as I can, observing the valley, far below my nest, atop this great mountain. I stand tall, proud. I move like liquid to the rim of my nest to display my full glory to the land below.

I lean out and fly down, separating my feathers and letting the wind glide in and dispense my blessing upon the land.

The inhabitants of the land accept my blessing. They respond with strange metal flags, raised in my name. Thousands of barrels held high and pointed in my direction as I pass over them.

Acting in my blessing, they shout to me,

“We are freedom.”

Then, all at once, they fire upon me. I feel the wind shift as the sharp fragments escape their barrels and whip passed me on every side. I shuffle and weave, dodging the aim of their desire.

I am freedom, struggling.

I collapse my wings, making myself lesser to become a smaller target. I arc my form to ascend, away from the fury around me. But, to ascend I must flap my wings. I extend them far for just once, to push myself beyond their reach. But, before I can hoist myself up on the wind, a small piece rushes up and lodges into my right wing. I immediately buckle in pain.

I am freedom, descending.

I spiral down, holding my majestic wing close to my body. The damage is disgraceful to my figure. I extend my left wing outward to soften my fall, and, in response, receive a second fragment. The pain jerks me about in the air. I can no longer steer my fall and the descent picks up speed. I close my eyes as my body connects with the earth.

The impact paralyzes me. I cannot breathe. I can hear them in the distance, calling towards me.

A sharp pain surges my body, involuntarily thrusting my form onto to my talons. I push through the pain and, with all of my strength, through my broken bones, I hobble away. I search for refuge, but I find none. I do not know if I move toward or away from my hunter.

In my attempt at escape, I am snatched from behind and slammed flat into the dirt of the earth. I cannot see my captor behind me. My mouth fills with dust and I begin to feel small, stabbing pains along my back. The pains continue, becoming more rapid. I feel cold on my backside. My feathers are being removed.

I lift my head up out of the dirt, and as I begin to turn it, it is shoved back into the dirt, sending a crack through my beak. The sharp pains and the cold continue down my wings.

I am freedom, mangled.

My captor turns me over. She is a strong woman and she smiles at me, admiringly. Not admiring me, however, admiring herself.

She rips the feathers, quickly from my chest in a quick motion. Then runs her cold, calloused hands around my broken frame, lifting me up, over her smile, and into the chilling wind. I can see others approaching. They wear anger on their faces.

The woman touts her accomplishment to the approaching mob.

“I am freedom, I have exposed this wonder with my hands!”

Then, as others arrive around me, I feel a pull at my left talon. I look over to see a man, grinning wide. In a quick motion, he swipes a blade at the upper end of my talon and it severs from my body. I cry in pain and the crowd collectively cries in satisfaction.

I see the man slip a ring into the top end my severed limb. Once he had finished, he held it up for the now larger crowd to see. He exclaimed his fortune to them all:

“I am freedom, I will wear it on my keychain!”

The woman, with her filthy hands around me begins arguing with the man holding my talon. They shout harshly at each other, each arguing their claim on me.

I spread my naked, wounded wings out to attempt to fly away. My right wing is met by two large hands. I look down at the large man, smiling at me in selfish joy. He yanks me from the woman’s grasp. By only my right wing, he holds me up to his eyes and exclaims to the crowd:

“I am freedom, I have conquered this wonder with my bullet!”

He then begins lifting me upward, but before he can raise me above his head, a second man takes hold of my left wing and brings me down. I look into his contending smile and he proclaims contrarily:

“I am freedom. It was my bullet that conquered this wonder completely!”

The two men hold opposite ends of my body, each tugging his own direction. The now even larger crowd screams hysteria as the men stretch my limbs farther than I could ever do on my own. Then, in a sudden instant, sound dissolves and my body becomes weightless. I do not feel the ground as my body connects with it.

I look up into the sky and see my old place of refuge. The clouds I once wove through seem like props. The cool, thin air above seems as if it is not really there, far up in the sky.

All at once, I can hear the crowd around me, cheering. I gasp in breath and a new pain enters my lungs. I flap my wings and nothing happens. I do not understand. I look to my left, then, in panic, I look to my right. My wings have been torn off.

The two men who were arguing now each held up one of my wings. Simultaneously they proclaimed to the people, ignoring the other:

“I am freedom! I have the power of this wonder!”

The crowd shouted with them, each claiming their own part of me. Each claiming something different than any other. I see my blood, spilled over the ground. The people trample it, trivializing it in a mix of dirt and sweat.

I feel what is left of me, lifted by my neck. My head folds over where I can see my decrepit body wagging about above the ground. A blade flashes across my vision and, once my sharp eyes have adjusted, I watch my body fall from my neck, away from my head. Before it hits the ground, two hands reach out and catch it. I angle my eyes up as far as I can to see a figure holding up the mass of my body screaming in glee:

“I am freedom. I have the majority of this wonder!”

My eyes fold back in my head. I can feel life departing from me. Regret mounts me. A regret greater than the pain that I have endured. I regret releasing my gift on the valley. I was naïve, and the flaw has been fatal.

I look forward one last time to see a smiling old man. His eyes show a fondness toward me as he moves me closer to him. He maneuvers me on his chest and sticks a pin through my beak, attaching my head to his clothing. He looks away and, in a low, scratchy voice, he preaches:

“I am freedom, and I will wear it as a badge.”

My eyes sweep the crowd to see the multitude of faces showing anger, disgust, bitterness, sadness, arrogance, and judgment.

As I slip into death, I have a final thought.

I am freedom. And because I am, no one can be free.