Aloft the wind
I ride the night sky
I see the world through a much different eyes
Power, beauty
Strength and grace
I feel the spirits of ancestral space
Pride of herd
Sisters and brothers
I live ever watchful by others
A kaleidoscope of colors
No two ever the same
The short, the tall, the long of the mane
I know the chance
I know the fear
I live on the edge for death crouches near
On my back I carry a load
Through storm and calm
Ever vigilant and bold
I have died in battle
Killed by man
Hunted by predator as I roamed the land
No more room
Not enough grazing
Captured, shot, sold by pound on bills of lading
Yet I survive
Sometimes an insurmountable course
I am feral, I am a Mustang, I am a Wild Horse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem