Equine

Breath deep beautiful mares. Your manes tossed windward against  purple sky. Smell of earth kicked up as you wave through the rolling hills.

The pleasure of the run through wind’s song in the mountain pass. Range abundantly in the fields of the foothills. The “freedom ladies”, an equine ‘equipe’. 

The “spirit breakers” loom for their day

Early daylight, smoke wafting, morning wet breezes, they catch that scent coming in the dawn fog.

The acid-burn hitting on their nostrils of the men with ropes they have witnessed before. 

Frozen

Stillness

In Freeze

Sounds carried on the wind blown clouds.

It is them. The “spirit breaker” are on equine cherished land, a land these men have forsaken just as they have forsaken all else but their own world.

Mares, antsy under the glistening gray of new day.

Shuffle and hide, up to the passes in no man’s land. Iced rocks and altitude’s deep white powder, the rock mountain indifferent as to who falls prey.  

“Smuggling spirit breakers” enjoy the challenge. On their broken spirit horses they traverse grande mountain tracking the “freedom ladies”. 

The “freedom ladies” can taste the “smuggling spirit breakers” on their heels. Fear and tension has them disoriented in their flight to get away.

Robes, the “smuggler spirit breakers”, picking their dance cards to charm the “ladies of freedom”.

The girls all nervousness with uncertainty concerning their advances.

For the girls know they have to be wary of each and every step leading to the dance as well as the dance itself.

The match of wills between the the “smuggler spirit breakers” and the “freedom ladies” has begun.

A waltz of ropes, getting the mares tied up has begun.

The “smuggling spirit breakers” swiftly boxed in the “freedom ladies” knotting their ropes.

A ripple of screeches from the ladies’ upwards heads. Ropes digging into “freedom ladies” flesh.

“Freedom ladies” “smuggler spirit breakers” scuffle. 

The ripple of the ladies’ screeches, their heads upwards, knotted ropes holding them down so they can’t rear up their hind quarters, or kick out.

“Smuggler Spirit Breakers” laughing at “Freedom Ladies” defeat. 

Spirit broke. Her triumphs leveled for they are not seen in man's comforts and uses.

Purple mountain, sky memory, now an empty part within. Harness. Saddled and groomed, fair maiden equis given barn and hay.

Tired not tired searching… Spirit broken

.

She works hard in the man's world a vehicle to man needs. 

He decides her worth. Her hope is in pleasing. That small reward will come. The wet apple treat.

Seven generations passing. 

“Spirit Breakers” and “Freedom Ladies” finding pieces of mirror rock on their paths. 

Glimpsing parts of their inner nature reflected in the sparkling rock.  A seed of familiarity, breathing eased in and out. 

The great great grand daughters many generations past of “freedom ladies” who graced the purple ranges in the reflections sensing the smell of the seasons in the dewy morning wind. 

A glimpse in mirror rock the great great grand sons many generations past of “Spirit Breakers” with knotted ropes peak at their “young boys faces” full of wonderment and adventure long for access in to their inner life. 

The mirror rock reflects “Freedom ladies” and “young boy faces” of long ago stirring the heart-strings…