Signs of Grace

by Georgette Buckley

As a young child, I sit proudly
upon my uncle’s pony Prince
posing in the bright light
while visiting my grandma’s farm in Illinois
how innocently trusting we are of this animal
whose reins are not even tied to a post
as my Mom shoots my portrait.

In my young teens we move
out to this middle of nowhere
to live on a nearby dairy farm.
One day while riding with friends
this same pony shot off like a rocket without warning
through the neighbors field
breezing past all the rest of the horses
(that were only casually galloping
while their riders conversed)
Prince was determined to win the race
in his own competitive instinct.

Fast, faster then fast as lightening
Prince bolted while I lost hold of his reins
grabbing around his furiously rocking neck
feeling his strong muscles straining against my arms
becoming slippery from the sweat of his soft red fur.
Unnervingly, swept away with his pure unbridled energy
the melodic sound of his muffled repetitious hoofs
on the enormous open field
the barren field
which became a blblurrrrrrrr
and seemed to stretch out endlessly.

Riding like the wind
fearing for my life
worried that I would strangle the poor beast
I grasped for something else to hold on to
His mane was too difficult to hold on to at that speed
the sweat on my hands made it worse
Next thing I know,
I was flying in a backwards summersault
and hitting the ground so quickly
that I thought that I was dead {pause}
as I had knocked out my breathe. {big pause}

I don’t know how long I lay there
motionless, completely winded.
But when my breathe came back
I stood up and noticed
my friends had caught up with me.
I walked over and took Prince’s reins
who had amazingly stopped on his own nearby
remounted and rode home.
I didn’t dare tell my parents what happened because
I was afraid–
so afraid that they wouldn’t let me go riding again!

Copyright 2009, Georgette Buckley.