Wild Horses

May 13, 2013

Just Write.


Wild horses run through my head, leaving tracks that even a hard Kentucky rain won’t erase. They’ve been cantering around, those equine bastards, for days. Pissing and marking their territory like some hangdog mutt. But these dogs are horses. More is at stake.

I’ve always loved the horses. The smell of the racetrack, the thunder and crush of them as they run, tails on fire. The way they’re magnificent without knowing.

The horses in my brain are not the same.

I don’t enjoy my horses but they’re home to me and I hunker down and lean in, because that’s what you do if you know your horses.

As long as I’ve been on this Earth and able to walk, it’s been horses. In the flesh or in the mind, it doesn’t matter.

They force me to stand in my tracks, quiet myself, listen.

Is it their eyes, the blackblack of them that’s dark but soft at the same time? Is it the way they sniff at an outstretched hand, halt for a moment, consider, and lean in if you pass muster?

Is it the way they inhale spring air, claw the dirt beneath them and decide “yes, yes, it’s time to run.”

Wild horses don’t question things.

When it feels right, they run.

They run and they run and you hope to Hell you’ve bet a Trifecta, because you know they’re going for broke.

{ 7 comments… read them below or add one }

Dawn May 13, 2013 at 6:09 pm

You have wild horses going crazy in your head…I have out of control semi trucks. Neither is fun, but they both keep us on our toes. Hope your horses relent soon and leave you in peace.


Jamie May 13, 2013 at 7:26 pm

At least your horses bring out your writing chops. Damn, woman!

Also, it took everything in me not to get punny with “writing chops/riding crops”


Barbara May 14, 2013 at 4:05 am

Re motherhood:
My ex was in Korea when my first was born. But my mother was there….for all three. (Back then, nobody was allowed in the delivery room.) If it hadn’t been for her, my second might have been in trouble. She was the only one who recognized he was turning yellow. Don’t worry. All was well in the end.
Re horses:
Perhaps I am not normal. No horses, no semis, just me.
(But I love horses as much as you do, have been around them since I was a child.)


Abby May 14, 2013 at 4:15 am

Great metaphor. For me, it’s just mental marathons I’m forced to run myself. No horses. No semis. Just me. Wanna trade?


Pamela May 14, 2013 at 1:07 pm

Ah I know these horses too. I grew up in a barn practically and I miss the smells and sounds of them. I am learning to live with the ones in my head but they are unruly.


Ellie {Musing Momma} May 14, 2013 at 6:04 pm

What a captivating post. I love the imagery.


Lisa @ The Meaning of Me May 14, 2013 at 7:44 pm

Great image…I get it. No horses for me, though. For me it’s words. Always words. Some make sense; some do not.


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