When a cat dreams of becoming a lion

she sleeps,
a small shape in the alley,
curled around a roaring dream.
the gutter is full of rats,
soft lives, quick jaws,
eyes always down.

a bird in a cage
screams its song into steel.
the sky doesn’t care.
bars don’t break,
and hope dies quiet.

coal stays coal.
grit and dust, forgotten.
only under the crush,
when bones crack,
does a diamond breathe.

the phoenix burns,
not for glory,
but because the ashes itch.
rebirth isn’t beauty.
it’s clawing, tearing,
a fistfight with the dark.

trees rooted too tight
stay shadows.
growth snaps,
splits,
bleeds upward toward the sun.

and yet, the dandelion,
fragile.
feral.
spits in the face of stone.
roots ripping through concrete.
it wins.

this is for those who burn,
who bleed,
who refuse to break.

you are still here.

this is how small things shatter cages.
how ash turns to flight.
how stone crumbles
for one last breath of light.

do it.
stand up.
don’t bow.
Be a lion

FSF