Welcome Eager Readers! (And Writers)

Thanks for stopping by. Please read our "About" page for some more information and please look over our submission guidelines that are on the right before submitting.

Enjoy, and Viva La Toucan

Laura, Toucan Editrice

Thursday, December 1, 2011

A Horse is Not A Horse, Valerie Melichar

There came a time when I realised
that people change their names
and I learned that although I was Cathy
I might as well not be. That threw me.

I sought guidance from a horse.
It whispered quiet, peaceful secrets:
green living, speedy limbs. I vowed to be
a braver gregarious animal.

See, horses don’t call themselves horses.
They think we are rather strange.
They know that they are dinosaurs, heavy
with the wisdom of the ages.

I thought: if horses aren’t horses,
then, surely, humans don’t have to be human.
They told me no, it doesn’t work like that.
They never told me how it does work.

I didn’t speak to horses again,
or humans (whatever that means),
and began to disregard the shape
others gave the world with their names.

I have my own vocabulary now.
It’s odd, some call my lingo strange
and I too have had my doubts,
but on the whole, I feel at home.

The strangeness never subsides
but within it there is something
to be had that is far stranger
than the saddest sadness ever was.

Happiness is what I call it,
and every time it decides to happen
it makes its appearance in a whole new outfit,
incognito to its previous acquaintances.

But I recognise it all the same
because I am not human, not horse.
Sometimes I call it love or table,
sometimes I paint it like Magritte.

No comments:

Post a Comment