Sonny’s gone, Jim wrote.
The scribed message, so simple and stark
lacked the sound of his voice, but I heard
Jim’s pause-filled sigh in those uncountable seconds
when truth hits hard
and words, mere symbols of our reality
let us down.
3-D memories flooded my mind
tactile visions of spring-born colt
chestnut legs like flying buttresses, ungainly and long
and wonder-filled days ahead with happy destiny
carved by DNA and sweet mare’s milk
and sun, those glorious summer rays…
Galloping grows from sunshine and meadows
hooves drumming the bodhran ground
chastising squeals and mother-love neighs…
All the while, as I dream of the child horse who’d been,
Sonny’s lifeless body, a silent shadow of himself
draping earth – an old sleeping giant – awaits
Jim prepares the tractor-dug coffin
a deep, soft space, gentle rest place
of honor for his friend, nestled beside beloved bones
And beyond the invisible curtain of light and love
Sonny’s spirit dances, chestnut shimmering, cavorting again
for there, waiting to greet him, stands Sur
shaking his noble head, calling
Welcome home, Sonny.
It was a good passing
Submitted to:
http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/
http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/search/label/The%20Poetry%20Pantry%20Revisited
