Sunday, February 5, 2012


I watched the Beagle
Her right hind leg limping
To her dish, she hobbled

Weeks later, she cried
A high pitched "Yip!"
From the sofa to floor
She collapsed in pain

I nudged the dark gelding
My heels signaled to him
Trot, trot we began

Stumbled, rebalanced
We circled around
His head pulled downward
"Hoe."-his rhythm was off

A tall, skinny child recoiled
Spirit deadened within her
Eyes empty and void of light

Muscles or cartilage torn
A soul condemned and stunted
Activities injured
All three wounded and lame

Back home, the Beagle sleeps
Carefully repaired and sedated
Confined for months to heal

Led back to his stall
Untacked and cared for
The gelding rests and drinks
Perhaps only temporary relief

The grown up child hibernates
Unlimited potential asleep
She asks, "Where is my healing?"

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