As if struck by lightning, the horse
died; a clean and horrible quiet. No
diagnosis, no cure, no negotiation.
The reluctant but permanent truth
that no amount of flapping emotion
can change. Held long in the instant
of being cleaved in two, stripped
bare in the flash of change. Not
touching the dry ground underfoot.
Not feeling the rope in hand. Not
knowing the direction home, having
already become someone else.
Anna Blake for Relaxed & Forward
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