It – a tiny, fragile being – kept hurling itself against the transparent glass, again and again.
Its delicate body beat against the surface in frantic flutters, as if pouring out the very last of its strength.
The space ahead seemed like open sky and freedom – with drifting clouds that gently called it forward – but every effort to break through was stopped by an invisible wall: cold, unyielding, and merciless.
Panic gave way to exhaustion.
Soft white feathers scattered across the tiled floor, floating in the sunlight like fragments of hope torn from its body.
It curled up, trembling in the shadow of the window frame – wide-eyed and powerless.
The vast world outside felt close enough to touch – and yet, impossibly far away.
She walked by.
Her gaze brushed against that brokenness with quiet sorrow.
She reached out – trying to hold it, to save it.
But each time her hand approached, the bird would jolt upright, terrified – unsure if the hand meant rescue… or ruin.
It flew – wobbly, like a leaf caught in a storm.
And then, when all its strength had faded, when its wings finally folded – not in rest, but in surrender – She moved closer. This time slower, gentler.
It rested in her hands – still trembling, drained, but no longer resisting.
A fragile life, with thin legs and clouded eyes, giving itself over to a stranger’s touch.
Perhaps, in that moment, it had never longed for life, for flight, for freedom more deeply – when freedom felt like nothing more than a fading memory.
She brought it to a bridge.
Then, without a word, She opened her hands.
No warning. No delay.
The bird flapped its wings – instinct kicked in – and it flew.
It circled above the iron railings, startled yet radiant, as if still unsure it had really been released.
Its eyes lit up like dawn.
It danced in the sunlight, chirping with joy.
She smiled – the quiet smile of someone who had just returned a soul to where it truly belonged.
The glass was still there.
But it had flown past it.
Though wounded, it would heal.
The lost feathers would grow again.
And it would be itself once more – a small child of the sky.
And she, now walking away, seemed lighter – as if she too had been freed, as if she’d just saved a life… and maybe, in doing so, saved a piece of her own.
Excerpt from “The Little Bird and the Glass” – TV Ha Kim
Saigon, 2025
