High Horse

My horse and I

sat on high

watching little people

down below,

live their boring little lives.

Superior, we felt,

looking down,

from a vantage point

of knowing

we were nothing

like them.

We were better,

so we thought,

in every way.

Up here alone,

brave and courageous

and not needing anyone.

But then the wind rose

and it howled

up the ridge

and its chilled fingers

entered my bones.

Night fell,

and its inky blackness

hid the drop

and left me disoriented

and afraid.

The lights came on

in the houses down below,

their warm glow

bringing home

just how much

I was alone.

The night wore on

and my courage,

of which I was so proud,

waned in the long night

while I shivered,

unsheltered.

My horse shifted

under my weight

and even he seemed

to say, fool,

maybe you were wrong.

Maybe being brave

and going it alone

isn't how to be strong,

maybe there is

something to be said

for help.

And shelter, and warmth,

and community,

for people who are there

in every weather,

through every dark night.

The sun rose, eventually,

and the soft glow

of a fresh dawn

brought with it

the promise

of the chance to change.

Okay, horse, I said,

let's give this a go,

let's try a different way.

He snorted his approval

and we made our way down

from our high cliff,

to the village below.

©Roisin Duffy

TITLE: HIGH HORSE

PRICE: €700

SIZE: 24" X 32"

ACRYLIC ON DEEP

CANVAS WITH BLACK EDGE

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