To Ride a Fine Horse

[kragore]

I know a man who's blind,
Who can see the gentleness and grace of frost settling on the grass.

I know a woman who is deaf,
Who can hear beauty haunting with a loon's call in people's souls.

Now in this time
Where I am the Judge,
the Jury,
and the Executioner
Can I keep their lessons in mind?

Fury whips me like the tide
Rising, falling, and rising again
To rend and tear at the structure I created
Mine.
My safety.

"MINE!"
Bellowed
loud and raw
Strained and torn
Followed by the thunder of the most wreched howl,
High and mournful
filled with anger
fear,
disgust,
and...
pity.

How Dare you test my patience?
How Dare you test my limits?
This is not a thing for you.

Falling, falling, to it's knees.
Keep brutally beating that equine corpse.
Maybe someday, it will get up, move on, let go,

and all you'll have left
is yourself.



- K.
(If you want to use this, ask me first. My poetry is a reflection of innermost turmoil. Do not abuse it's posting.)