Silent Bird

An imaginative composed by Jayda (Year 12 Advanced)

It's a beautiful thing, what can be said even amidst the silence. 

The words poise at the tip of my tongue, yearning to be pronounced. So desperate to leave the cloudiness of my mind and speak out to the world who holds them hostage. A bird trapped in its cage, longing to be set free. Every day, I am reminded of this epitome: that I am unable to speak, unable to share the small details that remain insignificant to most. To talk is my dream. To remain silent is my reality. 

For my 12th birthday, my mum gifted me a canvas and a collection of paints, accompanied with it a letter, its edges smooth and her handwriting embedded beautifully within. It read: 

Amber. 

My sweet darling, my little bird. My ray of sunshine. 

Today marks your 12th birthday, and I wanted to say how proud of a mum I am of you. Your intelligence, your kindness, your genuine love of life - it lights up my world and touches the hearts of many. You are the kindest, most gentle human I have ever met and I am so proud to be called your mum. 

This is a gift where you get to express who you are. Because your silence isn’t truly silence. I know there is a part of you who yearns to speak, to soar, to scream. So sing loud, my dear. Use the colours to guide you, and build your story, your identity - let it shine. Let the bird within you soar. Because you hold a light by which I am guided. Without you, my angel, the light within me would flicker, and I would be shunned into darkness once more. 

Keep shining, my love. 

Mum 

I clutch the letter tight to my chest, its comfort like a lullaby, singing to me, waiting in silence for my reply. 

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Colours swirl beautifully around me, curating a haze, an unimagined sense of hope, an unwavering freedom. Amber for joy. Purple for creativity. Crimson for rage. Swirling together in unison with such urgency, such desperation, so raw. My canvas stands, a constellation of colours - each one a silent whisper of my truth, my life, the self I carry each day. Each stroke, a sentence. Every hue, a paragraph. And this, in all its beauty, grants me a voice which fills the silence, my reply soft yet eager, quiet yet loud.  

My canvas awaits me, perched atop its easel. It yearns for me to continue, for it wants more. Here goes. 

Hi, I’m Amber June.

  I cannot walk. 

     I cannot talk. 

         I am unable to eat or shower on my own. 

This is how most people, including myself, describe me. 

I dip my paintbrush into the maroon shade of red, adding strokes to my canvas. The bristles of the brush murmur as it meets the white woven fabric. I close my eyes, drifting into a moment of stillness. 

My parents seem to think differently of me. 

Kind

   Beautiful

      Unique in her own way

         Their ray of sunshine that summons with her unwavering hope, joy, wisdom and     kindness.

I add a soft shade of amber to my canvas, my head tilting slightly, pondering on what next. 

I was diagnosed with cerebral palsy at birth. A disorder which seems to define me, shape me, influence what people think. They think I’m invisible, absent; when in reality, the inner me is screaming at the top of her lungs, filling the silence which remains. 

I dip my paintbrush into my palette, choosing crimson, and add it to my canvas. 

My canvas awaits one final touch. It stands colourful and vibrant, mixed hues and shades and meanings speaking out to the girl which once felt so alone. So confused. So utterly lost within the place she called home. I knew at the very first moment my mum gifted me those paints, that my life was going to change forever. I was no longer mute, no longer confined within the crevices of my own mind. I had the opportunity to soar, to scream, to finally let them free. The paintbrush held elegantly in my right hand, I begin to sketch a small white bird, soaring towards freedom. Its wings spread wide as it frees itself from its cage, ready to sing and let its voice be heard. 

It is not ashamed.

It does not falter.

It trusts in itself. 

And it believes. 

It carries with it an unwavering hope that it never knew existed. 

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My name is Amber June, and although I cannot speak, I do have a voice. I am no different from you - being trapped is all too familiar to me. But I will not let it define me. And so, let me remind you: 

Do not associate silence with absence. Gordon Hempton once said that ‘Silence is not the absence of something but the presence of everything.’ Fill the silence with love and hope and joy. And as my mum once said, “let it shine. Let the bird within you soar.” Be the colour amidst the darkness, the voice amidst the silence. 

Because what is said amidst the silence is the most beautiful thing of all.