Amongst horses
After Virginia A. Stroud
Tonight, I call out my grief
in the form of horses, and
run alongside stomping hooves
across the river. Tonight,
I clutch onto split ends of
auburn manes as we gallop
from the darkness.
A tale I heard so long ago
speaks of how millions of
Wildebeests cross the Nile
in summer, swimming
across dark,
crocodile-infested waters
out of desperation. Of hunger.
How they kick up the old
bones of their mothers.
How the riverbed becomes a
graveyard, an ode to the dead.
What the stories don’t mention
is that we run from the same god.
That we are born from the same clay
and rose from the same mud.
My body still fills with remnants of hurt.
Still sings songs about distant wounds.
Tonight, I will gallop into rivers.
Face the mouth of death,
unhinge my jaw, and
embrace the crimson.
in the form of horses, and
run alongside stomping hooves
across the river. Tonight,
I clutch onto split ends of
auburn manes as we gallop
from the darkness.
A tale I heard so long ago
speaks of how millions of
Wildebeests cross the Nile
in summer, swimming
across dark,
crocodile-infested waters
out of desperation. Of hunger.
How they kick up the old
bones of their mothers.
How the riverbed becomes a
graveyard, an ode to the dead.
What the stories don’t mention
is that we run from the same god.
That we are born from the same clay
and rose from the same mud.
My body still fills with remnants of hurt.
Still sings songs about distant wounds.
Tonight, I will gallop into rivers.
Face the mouth of death,
unhinge my jaw, and
embrace the crimson.
Saturn Browne (she/they) is thinking about their lost rings and those who might’ve stolen them. They can be found in squash courts, antique shops, and buildings full of ghosts. She tweets @saturnhas9rings and you can find their website at saturnbrowne.carrd.co
Beaver Magazine 