Two Horses

There is something in the winding of a road

That makes you wonder, even in the calm,

If you could or should have lived another way.

This one goes through a farm

And to a bridge that spans a brook.

My nebulous and pleasant thoughts are met

With honeysuckle blooming by the bank

And my heart with intimate grandeur

Rises on the hills with a big yellow moon.

I imagine there are worlds with places much like this

Where another version of myself

Might seek a consolation fit

For a different series of regrets.

Yet to be there when you needed me

Is a choice that stands above regret

And redeems the foolishness of all the rest.

There comes a time there is no longer joy

In things we love alone,

And there is no love without a sense

Of responsibility.

Knowing I can share these thoughts with you

Secures the bliss I find in solitude

Even when I do not remember.

Before I made a habit of these walks

I vaguely knew of horses on this farm.

Now I know that there are two: one black, one brown.

The brown one has a white mark between its eyes,

The kind that is called a star.

They draw near to the fence as I pass by,

Lay their heads upon the grass

Or lift their forelegs in the air.

Their grace is privilege to behold,

Their absence always marked with sadness.

Such bonds grow slowly as the roots,

As subtle and invisible

As the force that bears the moon

And holds my feet upon the road.

Reviews

[Robert Haigh]

Reading this poem again, I find it very emotional and thought-provoking. There is a certain sadness in this work, which the reader can readily translate into his/her own life. A fine write!

[Eilis]

Are you familiar with Seamus Heaney’s poetry? I felt this was a different style than what I’m used to reading from your poetry. It’s quite tender and open and like a prayer and offering at the same time. When we find someone who we are willing to give up some of ourselves for, that is transcendent. Your poem feels transcendent to me. It also feels like a sacred text opening itself and freely releasing its secrets. As though the realization has come that secrets have no meaning of they are not shared. We can hold things close but they will always only be ours. And while there’s comfort in that sense of being master of the personal destiny, there’s also a sense that maybe there’s something more we might know if we take the walk and allow the landscape to become part of us.

I love the way the speaker becomes part of the land in a sense. The backwards journey (in some respects) takes us back through the opening to a place where things were closed and shows how freeing it can be to allow the self to be worked on from the outside. I love the idea of the heart in intimate grandeur. The freedom of allowing. This is how I feel the poem.

It’s a beautiful work. I feel it rather than think it and that is a wonderful reprieve for me. A person who can hardly ever stop the thought. I enjoyed this very much. If you’re not familiar with Heaney, I think you would enjoy. This poem does put me in mind of how I feel after reading his poetry. He is my favorite poet. Great work, Casey.

[Casey Truax]

The voice of this one reminds me a little of the letters I used to write to my father or to my grandmother when they were still around. Above all I see it as a poem about love, how at the same time it binds and liberates us.

Seamus Heaney is part of my dear Norton Anthology. If you vouch for him he is surely worth another read.

[Casey Truax]

Post script. I had a rare chance to spend some time at the library so I found a copy of Heaney’s Seeing Things. Wonderful work. Thank you.

[Eilis]

That’s great news, I’m glad you enjoyed.

[CD Campbell]

Sadly beautiful. It's a great pastoral poem. I particularly like stanza three with the natural descriptions. The horses in their glory are very much present; they live in flow in my vision. The last four lines are quite nice, ties the poem up in a bow. So, Casey Truax, great work. The only thing that I would find some fault in is in the capitalization of the first word in every line. Typically it is traditionally done when only writing in meter, but I'm not some poetry nazi, so take this with a grain of salt. Anyway......

So, my older brother is named Casey. Casey is that you? Where did you learn to write? LOL.. I' sorry, it's late. Casey, this poem is fire. Have a good night. CD

[Casey Truax]

Thank you for such a nice review. As for the capitalization rule that is honestly not something I have heard of before. Maybe it would look better that way. I just want it to be easy to read. By the way I am no one’s older brother, only the younger. :)

[CD Campbell]

Yeah, I didn't think so. I'm glad. There needs to be only one whiney poet in the family. Two is too much.

[Robert Haigh]

I often go walking in the countryside alone, taking a camera with me. I meet several horses on some of my walks, and I think a few of them know me by now. It is good for the soul, to walk at a moderate (or even slow) pace, and take in the wonders of nature. I can certainly relate to this poem. Thank you for sharing it with us!

[Lisasview]

Love the constant landscape...and all your wondrous images..
First read of yours and i do like it...
Enjoying things with someone you care for is oh so important...
Lisa

[Casey Truax]

Thank you for visiting.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I was both mesmerised and engrossed by the words and images of this powerful piece of poetry. And strong solid message matching the gorgeous landscape described. I related so much to this particular line which captured me by its truth: "There comes a time there is no longer joy In things we love alone," So hauntingly true. Thank you Casey for sharing this bit of art with us all.

[Casey Truax]

I’m glad you found it meaningful. Thank you very much.