The Image of Iby Lore Challis ©
At the bottom of a puddle lies a picture
I guess it fell out of someone's belongings,
As they rushed into the great unknown
They happen to inhabit.
It's somewhat faded
And lines cross the surface of delicate paper,
Evidence of abuse and discare.
And along one edge is wear of teeth and burns.
It's an image hurt, and beyond repair.
Removed from the puddle
The image shines with an inner brilliance...
An inky black mare,
Rears against a threat in proud defiance,
And what the threat is, is pushed aside.
The invasion of humanity, a threat to life itself.
Tall buildings enroach on her land,
Reminders of the scaring capture,
Where abuse lives in their hands.
A silent killer lurks towards,
Pollution clouds to clog her lungs,
Like words to bury in the head,
Abuse from those that are on top.
The threat has stilled, she turns and runs
Avoiding the fight if she can.
Unworthy opponents they are all,
Yet the most dangerous, sadly.
A streak of black on jewelled tones
Her hooves are thunder's rings
She sticks out, but no one sees
The caution flaming in her eyes.
None dare approach without their warning
For she does turn with short hesitance to attack
Striking friend and foe
A loner from all she knows
There's no where to fit in.
And so she moves,
Alone and lost
She's moving through life
Awaiting the day when
Humanity will take her life away.
*Poem may not be reproduced in any form without the written consent of the author.*



