The Unbridled

The Unbridled

They pounded the ground
On their dark as death mounts,
Their howls as wild
As a storm nettled sea,
And the air was sucked bare
Of all soft and
All kind and all
Comforting sounds;
Not a breath
Not a beat,
Not a prayer,
Not a whistle,
Against the hoof pummelling grind
And the whip thwack! on the bristle
As down they went,
Down they went,
And I with my steed
Foolhardy and young
And half crazed and naïve,
Waited and waited
To join their stampede.

It wasn’t as strangers
They swept down that hill,
I’d toyed with the Unbridled before
And deep down
I desired nothing more
Than to toy with them again still.
I envied their freedom,
The free reign of their rage,
It was the Unbridled starkness
Of their wild galloping passion
I craved!

Oh, forgive me, I pray!
I'd heard tales of their weakness,
Legends of their own woe,
Myths that perhaps once had recklessly
Opened my heart,
For long ago, I'll admit it,
I'd been a
Romantic
With my sights set on
Avenging my slights
Which I believed
Had a right
To be mended and conquered,
Then wiped
From existence.

Was it conceit?
Was it indulgence?
To believe this world owed me submission
An eye for an eye and a
Blaze for a blaze,
The arrogant demand for dues to be given
And debts to be paid,
As dumb-eyed
Dough-headed
Pig-martyred...
But brave,
I waited in stoical silence
To flesh out the unbridled ranks
Of their advancing
Campaign.

Perhaps I thought
I was immortal
Perhaps I thought that I deserved
More,
But as I ready-steadied
Nerves for battle,
Stirrups primed
And saddle mounted high
As I,
Launched my steed
And mewled the mewl
Of the bloodthirsty cry
I did not expect my action
To prove...
Fatal!

Oh do not look me in the eye,
Do not tell me what a fool I've been!
Do you not think that
Each time I gallop by the by
I do not think of all the fates
I threw away,
Of all the futures lost
That might have been?
But who here would not indulge the urge
If chance was given,
To shrug off this heaving weight
That is the saddle laden,
Bridled constraint
Of time and space
That seeks to pull us down
To mar our dreams
Combined with taint of
Crabs, who would prefer to see
Us dressed in rags
Than steeped in sequinned robes
That mark us out
As those
Who chose to clothe ourselves
In Unbridled freedom?

Who here? I ask,
For though as a ghost
I am now cursed
To roam the quiet vista
Of clay sepia streets
Where once I played,
And many a times
I might have wept
And often grieved,
I cannot regret
That for just one moment
In the hands
Of time's almighty clock,
I chose to set
My wild tongue free,
And as I did,
Though maybe it was wrong,
It was with one last breath
Of joy,
The Unbridled
Found a home in me.

So, hush,
For when they next come,
To pound the ground
On death-dark mounts
With howls as wild
As storm-whipped sea,
Though yes,
To heed their cry
Might bleed you dry,
And you might pay the price,
And you might wish you’d thought twice,
But let it be known,
No matter how much
You think your
Boiled rage
Be best bottled up
And self-contained,
I’ve a confession to make
That might make your
Mind change,
A secret:
I unbridled my rage,
And though as a result
Consequences were paid,
Guess what?
I loved it!

J Morrey Grace
30th July 2018