el furioso

if i was a wrestler today, that would be my name. i'd have a black mask with flames coming out of my eyes and mouth. and spikes coming out of my gloved knuckles.

if i were a rank bull, i'd be named whiplash. because that is what i would give anyone who came near me today.

but i'm just a girl. and only a couple friends could brave coming close to me, and they had to endure my screams of agony. and so they did.

soothing me with attentive silence, there were no words of wisdom, no remedies, no elixirs to pour down my throat and help me through. just silence. the fewer the words the better.

and i have so many things i have to process, so much to think about. as i'm railing to my friend on the phone, i look over at a horse in the outdoor arena doing some dressage and it all just clicks into place.

i understand as i've never understood. and while this will be fuel for my creative processes and the work of school i must force out of my head and onto the page, it does not clarify the murkiness of my life.

and the hawk flew and perched in bucky's paddock. bucky, a mid summer thin and bleached, i tried to count his ribs, but they look a little deeper set today than last time, it's been a couple weeks.

and finally, he came over to me and said hello.

but i was largely inconsolable. even for one who has free reign in my life.

i cannot explain my losses. i cannot articulate my heartache. i can only say, it is a dark day and be glad you are not near me.

wounded dogs bite. remember that.