Young mare, on the full-moon night you
were born, we recognized one another.
It was an awkward kinship of un-belonging,
both of us being more like the other
than either of us were like our mothers.
No baby talk or embraces, we each stood
squarely as equals, never anyone’s little
pet. You were a coppery redhead, eyes
ringed with white like a reverse raccoon,
your body followed suit; gray before the
season changed. I took to silver before
my time, too. It isn’t as flattering in my
world but it’s not our way to contritely
bow our heads or apologize for our
nature. Last night, not thinking, I brought
the geldings in before you. With a
sharp angle to your brow, you blurted
out a snort as vehement as a sonic boom.
The arc of your neck outraged, your
furious hooves took flight, barely able
to reach the ground, galloping one
churning circle after another. You’re
right. So, I waited at the gate. The
geldings don’t respect you yet, but I do.
I’ll hold this space for you, as mares
have done for me. On this day, I’m
humbled by your metallic strength and
raw pride, never a heartbeat less than who
you are meant to be. We both stride this
earth but mares take the light and prance.
0 thoughts on “Photo Challenge & Poem: Pedestrian”
“awkward kinship of un-belonging” … I love this phrase. It’s really the perfect contradiction that some of us hope for?
Might be, Wendi. 🙂
Always such a pleasure to open my inbox and find a gift from you.
So many thanks!
Thank you, Maureen. I wing these out from my little farm; I’m glad they land welcome.
My sisters. Sometimes the un-belonging gives us the space and freedom we need.
Hearts and flowers don’t fit all of us… for just that reason. Thanks, Judy.
Yeah! Beauty in words!
Thank you. Mare inspired.
Oh yes. I am so looking forward to your book of poetry.
Teeheehee. Thank you, Susan
my great white wonder was born a raccoon too … thus the barn name of Rocky, and yes I sing the song to him all the time, as we walk and graze on a not-boiling or blinding Texas evening. as a 24y/o he’s gone through all the chestnut to blinding white to heavy fleabitten stages … a good metaphor for all the changes a horse of a certain nature goes through. sorta like us. I loved this, thanks for posting it, especially today.
Sherry, when I get there, a toast to the good horses than made us flea-bitten, too.
With a sharp angle to your brow, you blurted out a snort
as vehement as a sonic boom. The arc of your neck outraged,
your furious hooves took flight, barely able to reach the ground,
galloping one churning circle after another. Yes, you’re right. This captures so many moments and situations. loved reading the whole thing!!
Well, thank you, but I must confess. She does give me ample opportunity to witness this cycle of events. 🙂
As the first time owner of a mare, this was a perfect example of life with her. She was born here, although a dark bay, even blacker in the summer, she (at 10 years old now) rules the pasture and pens with her quirky ways, and small temper exhibitions…Yes, they occur when the boys get first served! Seeing your emails appear always boost my day.
Well, I say if you can’t fight ’em, join ’em. Thanks, Dianne, who understands the value of negotiation.
It is such a relief to be in the company of the unbelonging– “blurting out snorts as vehement as a sonic boom…” Thank you for calling us in with your words.
Hi Michelle, we are a contrary herd… Thanks.
You paint such a beautiful picture with your words. Thank you.
Thanks for reading, Susan.