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.