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Writer's picturefreundrob

Poem: Mustangs


sometimes there are no words

because the feelings are too wild

too sharp with fullness

to try and chain them

forcing them into stalls of syntax

would make them less-than

but we crave it all the same

because we fear what happens

when they break free

from the fragile corrals of our hearts

we are trampled by them

brought low and bloodied

in the thundering unceasing onslaught

as they spread like undamned rivers

across our floodplains of composure

we are mystified by their wildness awestruck by their grandeur and ever so terrified of what might happen should they be set free rightfully so because making peace with the wilderness of our hearts requires a giving up a letting-go of shoulds and musts demanding an acceptance that not all things are in our control

nor should be if beauty is what we crave if harmony is what we yearn for if peace is our strongest hope learning to be still and breathe in

out

and in again with soft gaze and open palm while the wilds rage all around daring us to stand in defiance stamping and snorting kicking up clouds of dust and confusion rending the air with ragged cries unseemly and pure

this baffling stillness is the only hope we have of not only surviving the stampede but embracing the wildness of our hearts and forming a bond of friendship the stuff of which legends are made and happily-ever-afters brought near.

-rrf

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