Mustangs Spirits of Truth

by D. Enise — Read all 64 poems by D. Enise

I can remember back, when I was a child
The first time I saw them. Running free, running Wild.
Forever engraved, Etched to my memory
The vision I witnessed. That day in the valley.

The ground filled with Thunder,
I could feel to the depths of my soul.
And the strange whispered callings
that told me to go.

I could not see them, but I knew they were there.
So I set out to find them, alone, without fear.
From my safe place in hiding up high on that ridge,
that seemed to touch heaven,..The top of the world.

With my heart pounding wildly in time to the thunder,
I could feel all around me, the wondrous splendor.
I caught my breath, as they came into sight.
And I could feel myself with them, in the strength of each stride

I could feel the wind on my face, as it tore, and ripped at my clothes.
My eyes stung from the tears, that blinded,... and flowed.
Though just a child, I knew in my heart,
Their Spirits were special. They were not of this earth.

I knew without words, their full meaning and message .
Why.. they were here! Running Free , wild and roaming.
That they stood for Freedom... For Truth, love and joy.
All that is pure, In hearts and of souls.

I could see the whole valley stretched out, below me.
And I watched in enchantment. As my blood raced, from the feelings.
I watched in silence, the sight mesmerizing.
It filled me with joy, with "them",.. I was flying.

I could smell the earth, the dirt that was sent sailing.
From the power of their hooves, reaching and digging.
I could smell the sweat, that ran off of their bodies,
Hair, mingled in dust, the warm air of their breathing.
And they glistened , and shinned as they ran in the sun
In the valley below, on their wild freedom run.
~*~

Forever engraved,
Etched in my Heart, and my Memory
Is the first time I saw,
The wild herd of Mustangs.

Copyright ~2002
D.Enise
All Rights Reserved

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The above, is a true story from my childhood.
I was just a young child. About 8 years old.
There is however "more" to the story, than I revealed in the poem above.
My Father, was an geologist of sorts, and I spent a great many of my younger years growing up in the Deserts of Calif, Nevada and Arizona.
In a time the desert was considered to be "Tabu"
We would find at times, posted into the ground, what at one time must have been the entrance's to some old dirt road.  Simply marked by just some OLD broken pieces of boards or wood, to stand as a sign . On the boards, in many cases, just some simple very crude drawings of a skull and cross bones, and or sometimes the word "Danger".
This trip, this time, was in "Death Valley" at a location known today as the "Race Track". A huge dry lake bed.
The herd of horses that I had found, and the feelings I felt at being able to witness them, is and was far more than ,incredible Joy.
In fact "words" could NEVER fully express the magic of the that moment.
What I do know, is that "if" I could, I would "give" ,"that" feeling to every single person walking or that ever had walked this Earth.
~*~
In that moment, I also felt incredible anguished sorrow.
I saw more than the horses down there.
I witnessed what was known at the time as "Mustang Runners"
Men with vehicles, and a plane, and a few on horseback, that located and captured the Wild Ones.
Their fate, to gruesome for words.

Even then as I child , I knew without a need for being told, that what I saw there, was wrong.

As I had watched in their Capture I felt extreme sorrow.
I felt all their fears, but I felt also their strength,
And their wills to endure.
Mustangs are indeed a Legacy
The once, and still to this day living legends.

They are of our past, they are of our present, and they live and run free, as hope for our future.
That represent for me still, of all the best and most beautiful,
virtues in life.

That we all could learn from, should we learn to see with our hearts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The feelings still stir deep within me.
I have to give credit for the Inspiration of "this" work
To an Author that has become a treasured freind of mind. Debra Coppinger Hill.  I have to give credit also to the horses, and to what ever forces in the universe allowed me the magical moment. The privelege to be of wittness that day.

While Debra's work always touches me.  To "hear" her lyrical voice, tell her "stories" through the words of her poetry, well there are no words to describe the feelings.. All I can say is I become transported, to another time, another place.
She had read her poem "Mustangs" to me, and all of a sudden, there I was back up on that ridge.
Thank you So much Debra!
(If you go to her pages at the Den, you can find a link to her web site, where there are links for her CD tracks. You can listen, and hear Debra's voice, take "you" back in time also, the way that I have.)
*Hugs*!

Monday, August 5, 2002