Day 57: Pantoums - Horse-speak
[A 'pantoum' is a form poem I first learned when holding space for women writers. It requires only six lines, but the form rotates them in varying order, giving unexpected meaning to the combinations of words, lines. You can see the structure of the poetic form here. I encourage you to try writing one yourself!]
Horse-Speak I
A herd of horses held my tears one sunny afternoon in November.
The mares drew close, eventually lying down around me, holding space.
Something Ancient touched me that day, in the way I’ve always known as Holy.
An innocence too, being seen without needing to listen or learn or respond—just BE
The mares drew close, eventually lying down around me, holding space.
Of course, I smiled, having held space for women for years. I am weary and sad, I let them hear.
An innocence too, being seen without needing to listen or learn or respond—just BE.
I feel like I can hide and be held in the herd, which is easier than dancing with just one.
Of course, I smiled, having held space for women for years. I am weary and sad, I let them hear.
Something Ancient touched me that day, in the way I’ve always known as Holy.
I feel like I can hide and be held in the herd, which is easier than dancing with just one.
A herd of horses held my tears one sunny afternoon in November.
Horse-Speak 2
I walked to the opening at the end of the barn, leaning against the gate.
Marcus chewed some hay remains in the center of the space, behind me.
I felt afraid to want anything and shy in being observed or ignored--I couldn’t win.
I froze inside, like I do when I feel a yearning but am afraid to want anything.
Marcus chewed some hay remains in the center of the space, behind me.
I know this dance with a man—moving to get noticed, hidden in plain sight, deciding to numb.
I froze inside, like I do when I feel a yearning but am afraid to want anything.
Does Marcus want for anything? Does he ever feel sad because he desires yet cannot be met?
I know this dance with a man—moving to get noticed, hidden in plain sight, deciding to numb.
I felt afraid to want anything and shy in being observed or ignored--I couldn’t win.
Does Marcus want for anything? Does he ever feel sad because he desires yet cannot be met?
I walked to the opening at the end of the barn, leaning against the gate.