Old Horse

[kragore]

One of the SCA Horse people lost a mount to age, and someone sent this along with his condolences.
I thought it was an interesting passage, and didn't want to loose it.


Old Horse

His muzzle on my hand was stubbled sharply

as tall grass fields in August.

In the garden mouthing an indifferent salad

weeds and lettuce daisies grass

he'd slip into his age, asleep and eating.

On three legs stiffly propped

the ears aslant

the hip-bone angled to the fourth leg's resting

So beautiful in his unlovely age

So angular, distended, roughly coated

So warm

So muscular

I never let him die but had him stolen.

From his grave I watched our unknown neighbors carefully

and waited for his call.

There are nearly twenty years between today

and that day he had seen more years than twenty

Still --

In the enemy's camp somewhere I know he's tethered

Lost in the tents

Despairing my arrival.

I have no spies to send, no messengers

to tell him I will come

But some day, surely

He will feel his halter slip.

I will cut his hobbles.

And we will gallop through the dark together.

Joyce B. Gregorian 4-72