War Horse Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

A bare-chested brave rode up to me
On an appaloosa in full war paint
The scars of battle clearly visible
Both on his skin and in his eyes.

Taken by surprise on a dark night
With only the moonlight to make him out
My first thought was that the thick fog
Was creating phantoms on my path.

But as he came closer
I could hear his horse breathe
I could feel the nerves of the beast.
I could smell its sweat.

Using some form of signal I could not see
The man halted his horse in front of me
Just as commandingly, he held out his hand.
I took it and he pulled me up to ride behind him.

We rode on through the night in silence.
As the sun rose, the mist began to dissipate.
Where I expected to see my tent were teepees.
Where my car should have been parked were ponies.

My silent guide dismounted and then helped me down.
I followed him through the village to the edge of the woods,
Where, next to a frigid stream, a sweat lodge had been set up.
Anointing us both with tobacco smoke, he led me inside.

Already seated within were several other men.
A drum was beating, their voices were keening.
The pipe was passed from person to person.
I began to relax into a heightened state of meditation.

Deep within my own mind, I became one with my brothers.
We shared a vision of what had been and what was to come.
In that moment I knew who I was and what I must become.
In that sacred place in some unknown time I saw my future.

And when I awoke, I was sitting cross-legged, alone
In an opening in the woods I thought I knew so well.
My tent and my car were just where they should be
At my feet were a pipe and a white buffalo totem.

The pipe sits by my bedside untouched.
The totem rests on my breastbone at all times.
The details of that night have begun fade away.
But what my mind has forgotten my soul knows.