Listen to my poem The Animal
The Animal
Does a horse like to be mounted?
Weighed down by saddle?
Does a horse like to be pulled, and yanked by a bridle?
Does a horse like to be tethered?
Does a horse like to be whipped, thrashed, broken, domesticated.
Does a horse like to race? Does a horse like to win us red and blue ribbons by jumping over higher and higher obstacles?
Does a horse like to be blinded so as not see the danger that might come its way?
Does a horse like to force breed, faster, more domesticated foals, to make us rich?
Does a horse like its once vast, boundless world to be narrowed down to a fenced acre or two?
Or have we enslaved a horse for so long, that we stopped questioning it. We’ve conditioned ourselves into believing that that’s what a horse is for? That that’s why a horse exists.
Like a horse, before a man took possession of you, you loved your freedom, you were fierce, you broke the ground with your gallop.
Before you believed in men’s lies about religion, and sin, and modesty, at the sight of his whip you protested, you neighed, and shook your flowing mane proudly,
You never stood still, you never waited, you refused to be tamed, you were pure air, you were fire. You leapt like a locust, you stroked terror with your snorting. You rejoiced in your strength. Afraid of nothing, you laughed at fear. Frenzied and excited you charged into boundless grassy plains, you soared like a hawk.
That is why sometimes, a lot of times, when you’re bogged down by all of the demands of being mother, a wife, a girlfriend, a daughter, a sister, a man’s
