Looking Back, Far and Near

When I rode with Genghis Khan
the horses were short and tough.
My horse was my friend.
Now I am a woman, an old woman,
and I have never sat a horse.

When I was little I rode on the hoof
of Horace, the draught-horse
in my grandfather’s orchard,
standing on it and clasping his leg.
He was my only horse friend this time.

When I rode with my brothers
as a Mongol warrior, I wore
a helmet with leather earflaps
and a cap of fur over that.
Now I hate wearing hats.

When I was a little girl, my mother
put me in cotton sunbonnets
with shady brims and big neck flaps
because I was fair and might burn.
She sewed them herself.

When I galloped across the Steppes
with axe and sword and bow
I was not afraid. I knew battle
and my horse helped me. My brothers
were all around me. It was good.

In my life here and now,
I was always a timid child
and couldn’t handle my body
to turn a somersault or ride a bike.
I hated raised voices and confrontation.

Now is better, I believe. I can fight
if I have to. And I can think well
to avoid it. I wear what I choose.
I like driving my red car.
I make poems. I pet my cats.

Yet, lover of hills and trees, sometimes
I imagine sweeping across the plain
on the back of my sturdy horse,
or remember not being afraid
of a huge, gentle Clydesdale
touching who I was.


April PAD Challenge 20
Prompt (1) Looking Back.