Mustaño

By: Justin S. (whiteflame)

Oh wild mustang,

Indian friend,

How deep your

Dark brown eyes.

To be here, with me,

Standing, watching each other.

I can see past your dark

Eyes, wise with the land

That is as untamed as your withers.

I am you

And you know it,

That is why you stand here

Before me,

When you have the whole planes

To run to.

Oh Indian pony,

Old legend,

Why am I not

As you are?

You can see past my

Eyes and look into my soul,

Its torment,

Who could possibly be so cruel

To place a horse,

In a body

Such as mine?

You wonder.

You stand there,

Burning a flame into my eye

With yours.

I am as you,

But it is as if society,

And life

Has erected a barrier between us,

And even though there is no fence,

There is still the grasses

To separate us.

Oh cruel fate,

How are we not

The same?

You stand there,

Swatting your tail,

Looking at me with anticipation.

Do you wish for me

To run with you,

To become the leader

Of your herd?

I could, at this moment,

Run out and leave my cloths

On the shrubs and

Tall grasses,

But why do I hold back?

I am you.

I am not you,

That is why.

We were meant to

Be together,

But why are we apart?

You tell me you

Do not know either,

So we stand watching

Each other’s eyes.

I could, at this point,

Reach out and stroke your

Nose, but I do not.

You could come

And nuzzle me affectionately,

As one of your own,

But this was not meant to be.

Oh great sire’s child,

Your mane is long

And tangled,

Your nostrils move,

Breathing evenly and calmly,

Yet you are waiting.

Waiting for what?

You tell me that

I am standing wrong.

You say I am you,

Why do I look different?

I tell you I

Don’t know

Why, oh why,

Why?

I chase you off,

With tears welling in my eyes,

Run along now,

Your herd is calling,

I can see them.

Perhaps another time,

Sometime,

Wait for me,

Please...

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