Arabian Dreams

To run.

To stretch out on smooth,

safe footing and run.

To run into a cool autumn wind,

my forelock blown back between my ears,

to leave the other horses so far behind

and I see the distance shrouded in mist

so that the sand blurs into the sea and sky,

and I become afraid.


To be ridden by a rider who doesn’t

jerk my mouth or bang on my back,

who urges me on with legs closing gently behind my girth

and sees the mist-shrouded distance,

the blue-grey haze of sand and sea and sky,

and urges me on, laughing into my mane.


Urges me to run, to stretch out and run,

my tail streaming behind me,

to run past my fear into that distance,

and into flight,

the flight of an earthbound creature.


In my dreams, in my dreams, I am young,

I am young and limber and strong

and there is no fence between me and the horizon

and my human matches and answers to

my need to run with the cool wind in my face.


In my dreams, I am young and limber and strong

swift as the creatures of flight on their wings,

riding the currents of air above us…


17 September 2006


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