Up there
on your high horse
you grope in the darkness.
Blind to
azure
and
the midday sun.
Blind to
delicate wild flowers
braided in my hair.
Blind to
the sticky sweat of toil
and the gallop of my heart.
Blind to
fractured limbs
and murmurs of pain.
You only know
the ache of your saddle
the blisters on your hands
the tempest on your horizon
an unfathomable loss.
Dismount
and
discover
it
and
we
are all the same.
Colleen Sohn
