As if the past were riding up to meet you
as if the past could ride a horse

as if the past were a horse wandering riderless
along a dusty road

as if the horse had never been ridden

/

They say a horse is broken when the rider
can stay on

they say the past is broken when you can
let go of it

I have broken with the past, she says

I have erased it from my phone
I have blindered my eyes from her eyes

/

I didn’t know the past was made of horses
I didn’t even call it a horse until now

I didn’t even call it strange
until I looked back on it

the past was a horse crossing a desert
a body draped over it

this is how we get the beloved home

/

Strange now to never hear a horse upon waking
or when out in the field

I didn’t know the past would come for me
I didn’t even call it the past until now

sometimes one gallops past
but no one else ever sees it
~Nick Flynn ” Unbroken” from “Low.”

The past has a way of galloping away with me if I let it. I try to slow it down to a slow amble, enjoying the scenery along the way. But memories have a way of wanting to go their own way, not listening to pressure from the leg or a pull on the bit.

The past can’t be controlled or redirected any more than a horse can be ridden through my thoughts alone.

It must be a partnership, an agreement to keep moving forward, no matter what is being left behind. A horse prefers not to back up into the unseen unknown when there is so much ahead yet to be explored. I need to stop looking back and start looking between golden ears at where I’m going next.

It just might be the adventure of a lifetime.