Eyes averted, shuffling an invisible walk. A predator who feels like sad prey, trying to pass for normal, trying to hold balance. It doesn’t fool the mare. She sees it all, distant movements in her periphery or tiny broken parts deep inside of complicated humans; bruised children in aged bodies, splintered intentions colored with anger, brittle betrayed love, or honor abandoned for sake of convenience. Details are less important to the mare than the sour emotions we hold tight. It isn’t her job to patch us up and make us whole, but for a moment, she can let us feel what it would be like if we were.
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
Horse Advocate, Author, Speaker, Equine Pro