Saddle

Will we really control all…

both master and maid and work and trade and friendship and love and truth

are we really ready to lasso the moon
to grab Life by her neighing mane,

ride off into sunsets of applause,

as one whose mind once set 

spurs Life into somersaults of victory

obeying our every command-

a once wild thing 

humbly eating sugar cubes out of our hands?

will we make sure Hickory Dickory and Dock

guard our moments manfully from

churning oceans and earthquakes

and all manner of hidden things

which ought not swarm about

like Ms. Muffet’s spiders

yet do

will we make sure the common pimple never cripples

the power of our dreams?

or bitten by Life’s neighing teeth

will we fall from lofty saddles 

stardust tickling horse ribs  as she stamps about our head…

then ducking,

dodging 

hooves which rain upon  us

as we lay 

in puddles of hurricanes and shadows of deaths and unemployment and false wealth and unfaithfulness and riots and hatred and every kind of broken hope

brag 

about all we will make of Life

as though she were a sport to be chained 

to a hitching post…

or will we open our mouths

to pray

and gentle ourselves,

allow Life to tumble about hills

 and grow fat in lush patches of green

ask to ride bareback with her

in the wind ?

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