Comparable to a wild horse, I was made to be free. I roam, feed, and gallop toward mountaintops and back to the sea. I graze along the meadow and lay among the reeds, I am careless and magnificent an incandescent sight to see. There is no map or timeframe, I canter with the wind where flecks of dandelion fluff surround me and time and space transcend. Overflowing strength and wonder, I wander.
I was so stupid a foal and unable to see a wolf there in hiding, waiting to devour me that I didn’t even notice or hear the lick of his lips and it happened so abruptly—I slipped— and fell when darting past; only the wolf didn’t kill; only maimed- I am lame, left un-whole and ashamed. My iridescence lost its luster and I limp without glee, what just happened to me? Oh the strong and vibrant mare, where is she?
For what is a horse who is lame, what kind of purpose can ensue—- I know what they do, I am to be put down, and turned into soap- I am afraid and without hope. I hide. The reeds that once felt so cool on my skin now feel like prickles mocking me as I lay down to rest. I am tired now. I am broken now. I am angry now.
Without realizing it, I jolt at the sounds of birds nesting, and the once-fluffy flecks only bother me as they scrape across my neck. It feels so itchy and unpleasant, and I resent it.
The strong muscles that once lured me up the hill only shrill as I lay there aimlessly without will. Time is now ever-present as I see the sun set and rise and settle into the evening cool. The darkness embraces me like sheep fleece. I wish it was dark always so the light didn’t blind my eyes.
The morning dew nudges me and I peek up to notice a man off in the distance. His wide-brimmed hat keeps him in the shade. I look away. Maybe he didn’t see me— I nuzzle toward earth and feel the steady buzzing ground. Only the buzzing gets louder and I realize the man is marching toward me. I jump right up to bolt again and again and again why doesn’t he just leave me alone? I can see the circled thread he hides behind his back, a noose, I can’t and won’t become soap, I must flee—please man, just let me be. Day after day he proceeds to try to trap me but I won’t let him—I am meant to be free and even though I am hurt I can still buck up and kick back and I do until one day—he has some hay. I didn’t realize how hungry I’d become. The injury made me slower, and I eat less and less. My ribs now protruding and my mane is a mess I must confess I didn’t see entirely what that wolf had done to me. Oh the hay—I salivate at the thought of its herbaceous crunch and it’s alfalfa— my favorite but I have a hunch, this man just wants to keep me in a cage, and again, I am further enraged.
The fight with that man left me bruised and aching and weak and my neigh is hoarse, isn’t that ironic a horse with a hoarse voice- unable to speak. Unable to eat, or move or think. This is the perfect time for that wolf to come back to finish what it started. I contemplate and decide I can no longer hide and I’d rather the noose than the fangs of the wolf.
It’s settled then.
I journey toward my doom and wander in the direction of the man with the hat and there- just beyond that cypress tree he’s stopped and is looking up at me. This is what I wanted, then why do I feel haunted by my decision- oh this was a mistake and just as I turn to bolt I realize it’s too late. The noose around my neck and I buckle with nothing left to give or reason to live.
Only the noose did not hurt, it was soft against my crest and I am confused as the man seemed amused. A maniacal man, smiling at the thought of my demise. I am afraid and I try to flee but he begins to caress my mane and brush my coat and I now have a lump in my throat. This isn’t what I expected and I am even more afraid. He uses the noose to draw me to an unfamiliar place with wooden walls and it hits me. I walked right into my penitentiary what a mockery of the vibrant Mustang that I used to be. I glance up to notice fresh alfalfa and cool-crisp water to drink.
I wake up each day to the man filling up my trough and sometimes there’s carrots and apples there’s always more than enough. Again, so unexpected, another surprise is how much stronger I feel, I hadn’t stopped to notice the pain no longer there—- I stop and stare and sigh.
I hate to admit the ache for the adventures once had, when I used to be natural and extravagant and brave and now I am just here in this cave.
—At least the wolf can’t get me here.
Another day, another dusk only this one was different. The man wore no hat, and he opened my gate. I stared blankly aloof and in wait for my fate- of what the man might do this time, surely it was my time to head to the slaughter—-Suddenly as if he could read my mind he said oh, sweet, sweet filly, how can you still be so silly to think I’d waste all this intention you are my most prized possession and with one graceful glide, he stepped aside and said, roam and be free. I stepped out of that prison and charged toward the pasture where the dandelion fluffs whirled toward me. Their enchanting view and soft snow-like flurries welcomed me sweetly. Joy overflowing, I released a boisterous neigh and jumped and galloped and grazed in the abundance of the grass—-alas— there he was watching me from a distance. His presence brought me peace.
I stayed out until dawn, a new day with the sun rising and it was surprising the man didn’t try to drag me back. I was free and also hungry and thirsty and looked up to see—- the man in the hat waiting for me. With a bucket of water and my favorite treats. The cage is no longer a prison, instead, I call it, home.