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The Dead Wild Horse


In January among sage

I saw a wild horse lying dead.

Dead, my curiosity

did draw my spirit to this stillness.

On ground that held the chill of the New Year,

his carcass stiff with silent change,

a numbness overcame my mind,

what lessons learned from this morbid find?

Inspecting where his eyes had sunk,

the flesh of lips exposing teeth,

without remorse, curiosity

had brought my booted toe to kick

his bloated unkind belly, swiftly.

As if my cellular memory

began to send their messages.

I smiled, with sudden understanding

of cycles starting with our sun

and filled with sudden excitement

found when our minds acquire knowledge,

when one notices the fruitful sun

and dances with the tree of life

and there I knelt in front of death,

this carcass being my only pew

and prayed a prayer to nature, to life,

a sudden passion in my heart.

With this feeling I left the horse

to return months after, and saw

only small remnants of bone and skin.

This time I did not feel moved

I simply drove onto the road

and left this scene to nature.

For my thoughts were on my own life.

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