~rebel~ Poem by Andrew John Morra

She struts her stuff,
night and day,
learning to,
tread with care.
Style,
she understands,
brains,
she is not lacking.
Emotions play with her,
night and day,
fueling her thoughts.
She’s the rebel horse,
gentle,
but strong,
ripping through the desert,
wanting,
to leave memories,
behind.
The wind washes,
through her mane,
playing with her hair,
easing her thoughts.
She breathes the luscious air,
the beautiful smell,
of flowers in the sun.
She feels alive!
She is a distinct one,
a unique one,
opposing society,
opinions and thoughts.
She wants change,
and,
if she doesn’t get it,
she will,
force change.
She will work,
for what she wants,
allow her power,
to surround her.
Allow it to,
control her.
Reckless,
she is not,
powerful,
she is.
She senses danger,
in the desert.
She searches,
hooves pounding,
for hours,
she has endured.
This sixth sense,
an animal instinct,
sudden within her,
could not,
be ignored.
She hears the pounding,
of another.
Hooves she hears,
but heavy.
No horse is chasing her.
Gallop faster,
she runs with pride,
with style,
and she is sure,
that she can reach the extent.
Her ears are pressed,
against her skull,
dust whipping,
around her.
The beating is louder.
He’s closing in.
Pain!
Her torso!
A flaw in her plan.
She cannot see,
the weapon of choice,
but is sure,
it is humane and strong.
Now,
it is galloping,
beside her.
She turns her head,
a scream tears,
from her teeth,
accompanied,
by a snarl.
The being,
chasing her,
was mythical.
Legs of,
a horse,
torso of,
a man.
Centaur,
rebel yell,
she will outrun him.
Faster!
Hot trickle,
down her leg,
blood,
from her wound.
Another shot!
Almost the same,
pitted,
in the back of her chest.
Scream of defiance!
Faster she goes,
she will not,
be taken.
Twang!
Bowstring!
She understands.
She must,
get out,
of range.
Breathes are labourious,
that’s not good,
speed is diminishing,
worse still.
Push harder!
Hooves pound,
faster,
harder,
upon the desert sand.
Twang!
Fourth shot.
Left thigh.
She falls.
Centaur stops,
next to her,
looks into,
her eyes.
Flash of light!
Change,
no horse upon the ground,
centaur,
standing strong.
Bow off back,
arrow in heart,
male centaur,
dead.
The horse,
rides on.