What is the horse?


Cynthia Queen


Sadly horses are losing ground in the necessary part they once played in humans everyday lives. Fewer and fewer people know what it is like to feel the personal projection of the horse. To be awed by an animal ten times our weight and forty times our strength allowing us to teach it, to ask of it our wishes, and to befriend us.

The horse has been replaced at a high psychological cost. You can talk to a car all you want, but, it will not back up when you ask it. Sitting in it will not make you healthier. You will not feel the dew against your skin as you are lifted up a rocky slope by a thousand pounds of muscle and personality. Your senses will not be kept on edge by guiding the horse over treacherous footing or handling a spooky moment. Your adrenaline will not rush and your cheeks will not flush. Your mind will not  receive the foreplay of indulged senses before topping the crest of a hill and becoming a part of the scene unfolding. The glorious sunset infinitely changing colors; the wind touching your damp skin, the smell of crushed grass under pawing hooves or the sound of crickets and birds singing their nightly calls.

This is horse, this is human, this is the way it was until the machine came along; until the computer came along. When our fellow humans have given us a bad day who do we turn to talk to? At least the horse tries to understand.

Somehow, the horse just being there is enough to take the sting out of the day. Somehow they bring calmness back to an overwhelmed mind and give companionship to another day as it closes. Being with the horse is a moment in time. It is a day, a time, never to be repeated, but to similarly be indulged. Climbing aboard we can ride off from our frustrations, curl up in our bed and know the horse is out there watching over us, ready to warn if a stranger is near.

When mankind turned his back to the horse in exchange for metal mechanical wonders, the resulting loss to the next generations is truly profound. Short wonder children lean over fences making wishes the horse will see them as special. Hoping the horse will come to them, willing and trusting. As long as the horse exists, our dreams can exist, too.


Poem by Cynthia Queen

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