Eyes closed and listening,
The rustle of hay, boards against my back,
I listen to him breathe.
The weight of words cradled in my lap
As much a comfort as his solid weight
Standing above me.
For these two loves, my world turned.
Both were heavy, but he pulled harder.
Pen and page slipped through my fingers
Like sand in a child's grip.
Now in the chill of his absence I am pulled back
To the word and the wonder of the world
Which I can no longer watch
From between his ears.
So, this poem for me talks about two of my greatest loves, words and horses. I remember sitting often in my horse's hay pile while he munched around me, book in hand. Reading has always been a priority to me, but for many years, I put aside my inner writer. Why? Simply because while both horses and writing are in my blood, I'm not inherently gifted enough with either that they don't require a hell of a time commitment to excel. I made my choice in my younger years, and I have no regrets, but the strangling of my writing side continued even after my beloved Topaz was gone. I fell immediately from college and onto a horse-related career path, and somewhere along the line, I forgot I was a writer at all. Only last year, during the last rocky days of my marriage when I was trying to be away from home as much as possible, did I begin to rediscover that part of myself; With the rediscovery also came with the vow to reclaim what I'd lost. That transition will likely be part of more poems to come.