The horse did not know why I cried;
He suffered my tears with resignation,
My face against his neck’s strong side.
His eyes were patient, he shuddered and sighed,
He gazed with something like contemplation.
The horse did not know why I cried.
This beast, on whom I’d galloped astride,
Today stood quiet, in concentration,
My cheek against his neck’s warm side.
Perhaps he sensed that something had died
As we stood in wordless conversation,
This horse who knew not why I cried.
I was the wild thing, he the guide,
His calmness soothed, a soft sensation.
I pressed my cheek against his side.
His animal strength could override
Pain that had known no consolation.
Though the horse did not know why I cried
My cheek against his neck’s strong side.
Written by: Kathleen Goldhirsch
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