Remembering Wild Horse Katy Rutland I
Once we roamed free The rolling hills and steppes of our home Unfenced, untamed, undeniably ours. Thunder came a storm like we’d never seen. It rode against the winds in the grasses tearing the soil and staining the sky red and black with its passing We ran against the wind, away from thunder The storm kept pace, Overtook us Heartbeats stilled, never heard again as the storm shattered. Hundreds of storms replaced the one, each armed with lightning and fire. Voices grew silent and eyes dim. The storms captured us, fenced us. We fought but lightning flashes stilled more and more hearts We, the proud who had been without number, grew small. While trapped in barbed fences, we learned these storms had names. They called themselves cowboys, wranglers, ranchers, Men. They broke the weak and killed the strong, bending our proud necks or breaking them. Horse Heaven, they called this place of fences, this place that had once been ours. Soon I was alone watching the churning earth and toiling storms. Only I witnessed the soil watered with blood from my brothers. Watching, I knew the storms would overtake me as well – the storms that ran against the wind.
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Manastash 2013