Distant Wilds
In the distant wilds
of western Ireland we stride
Silent ~ in reverance
for this lonely beauty,
this harsh terrain
covered in the grasses of yesterday.
Here and there,
despite the bullying winds,
the bright exuberance
of violet gentian and gold primroses
surprise us in our tracks,
tenacious in their right to glory.
Hugging the grey stone walls
winding through centuries
we crest another rolling hill,
attentive in our discovery of
sacredness.
And there
~ as if we could stand another gift ~
out of the mist
a small host of
wild horses loom.
Catching my breath
I quickly scan the group
and fix on only one
the white mare.
She meets me fully
eye to eye
Sleek and bold
she knows her power well,
a creature of such beauty
I think her suited
to Epona Herself
Great Goddess of the Land.
Watching her turn
galloping across the burren,
head high ~ so proud,
mane and tail
flying forever,
I feel an odd cracking
in my chest
Freedom leaps ~ and joins her.
We’re galloping still.
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