The Wound

I have a horse I trust and rely on
I feed him, groom him, love him.
I stroke him, he nuzzles my ear.
My heart is gladdened when i see him
When i approach he comes without call.
We move as one in the wind
In a harmonious motion and rhythm
To ride him is pleasure and joy

If he were a wild cat trapped in a corner,
Or a scorpion entering my tent at night,
I would not feel this trust and calmness,
No affection would shine in my glance.
I might expect to sustain a wound,
A wound that might even be mortal.
But my horse is not a cat or a scorpion,
He is my friend and companion.

So the wound from my beautiful horse,
When he suddenly turned and kicked me,
Hurt more than scorpions’ sting or tiger claw.
I don’t know where this blow sprang from,
Some hurt of his own perhaps.
Now we look at each other a little askance
And I wonder how to approach him again.
I only know I must heal this

This healing is bound with my love of him
But my wound is still open and sore.
An enemy is expected to hurt us
We guard against the attack
But when a creature cherished and loved
Gives the blow and the hurt
This wound ploughs a furrow far deeper
It strikes straight and strong to the heart.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s