He has walked on from this place
into memory, this creature of heart
and spirit. He can’t remember a time
he didn’t know you, either. Named
with a young girl’s passion, this
colt grew to encompass all that was
true, the standard measure dwarfing
all lesser things. Such a life cannot
stay cramped in a worn body, tied to
a shallow breath. Has he gone to wind,
a heart unbound? Call out his name.
Cry proud tears, for you are his legacy.
He is worthy of mourning, worthy of
celebration of all you’ve become in each
other. Hold steady that primal moment
in half-light just before the sun goes to
rest; when gray horses pause in reflection
of all that matters most. In that slow fade
he will return; the dear scent of his mane
carrying you up on a silver-white breeze.