There’s a blue bird in your heart,
and I touched its cage…
A few years ago a friend told about a poem by Charles Bukowski’s “Bluebird”.
When I finally listened to it—really listened—I heard more than Bukowski’s gravelly confession.
I heard something familiar.
A sound I heard from my father, male cousins, uncles and even my male friends. I never understood it until that poem. The sound?
A cry for help.
Support.
Love.
Comfort.
Emotional safety.
Today I’m sharing my poetic response, “Baby Boy Blue,” and the questions it pressed into my spirit about masculinity, emotional labor, and the weight men still refuse to lay down.
Here’s a link to the YouTube video if you’ve never heard the poem
Baby Boy Blue “A Response to Charles Bukoski”
by: Cheyenne Ariel Paez
There's a blue bird in your heart
that you won't let free.
Historically,
Every boy has been told:
being a man means stopping at nothing
to subdue this bird.
Stop it from seeing the light of day,
smother it.
Put a bag over its head and waterboard it,
Drown out its chirps,
As it desperately tries to signal others towards your pain.
Scolding it to silence, yelling:
“No one’s coming to save you!”
“I’m suppose to be a man”
What is a man?
By your display, he is
Strong in stance,
emotionally blank,
programmed to rescue the princesses
and slay every dragon.
But what happens,
when you go home after all the madness?
You muffle the groans through whispers under your breath
Tending alone to burns under your armor.
Do you think you hide it well?
I saw a glimpse of your bird.
The flutter of its wings behind your eyes.
I recognize the song
by the trail of music notes you secretly paint
on the walls across your city.
Your only outlet:
spray cans and graffiti,
remixing your heartbeat’s song to a palatable melody that you’ll allow others to hear.
It’s art—your art
There's a blue bird in your heart,
but its wings have been burnt
By past lovers and misplaced kindness for others,
So you don't allow it to fly anymore.
You nurse its pain in secretly,
numb it with rum and friends.
Flings without strings,
because it's where fun begins,
and expectations end.
Many fight for your attention,
seeing the benefits of you.
But you never give in
because they don't see you.
There's a blue bird in your heart,
and I touched its cage.
Never seen someone get this close,
You try to flap your wings to scare me away.
Then you stop,
You hear the melody of my bird.
An unrecognizable sound,
Similar to your blues with the bass of free.
I recognized your caged blue bird,
I too held mines back
And hid it from others to see.
If you allow me,
I want to stand with you
and together watch
your blue bird fly free.
Behind the Lines
Why this piece?
A famous poem, my revelation.
Hearing Bluebird exposed how fiercely men guarded their own tenderness.
The invisible backpack.
Men often carry ancient bricks of “be strong,” “don’t cry,” “be the hero.” The load is heavy, but the silence is heavier.
Holy gratitude for womanhood.
As women we know pain—yet we’ve also marched, legislated, and prayed our way toward bodily autonomy, financial freedom, and space to feel. I’m amazed by how far we’ve come in just a few generations.
Revealing two truths at once:
I’m grateful for the strides women have made—choice over our bodies, bank accounts in our own names, degrees on our walls.
I’m grieved that so many men are still locked in cages of their own making, bluebirds beating against steel ribs.
Progress loses its radiance if half the sky is still barred.
Where Can the Bluebirds Land for Men?
Social permission: Women’s movements have normalized vulnerability circles, therapy talk, accountability groups. Where are their equivalents for our brothers?
Internal policing: Male-bonding often rewards stoicism and punishes softness.
Loss of language: Many men were never given vocabulary for grief, fear, or longing. They default to humor, anger, or silence.
Reflection Prompt:
Think of a man you love—father, friend, partner, son.
When was the last time he felt safe enough to cry in front of you?
Thoughts?
Share this post with the men in your life—let them know the cage can open.
Journal or pray through these questions:
Where did I first learn what “strength” looks like?
How do I react when the men around me show emotion?
Resources you might suggest to them (and use yourself):
“I Don’t Want to Talk About It” by Terrence Real
Therapy for Black Men / Latinx Therapy directories
Breath-work apps (how simple exhalations unclip the lock
Drop a comment:
A moment when you witnessed a man’s vulnerability and how it changed you.
Prayers, poems, or playlists that helped you process hidden grief.
Ideas for building healthier accountability among men.
(Remember to “like” insightful replies—your engagement fosters safety.)
May every bluebird—hers, his, theirs—
feel the wind of collective mercy
and finally find the sky. 🌤️
Thank you for sitting with this tender conversation.
If today’s words stirred you, tap the heart ❤️, share with a friend, keep this circle growing.
Grace & boldness,
Ariel
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