The Horseman

Posted 12 January 2011 by

The Four Corners…the land where the canyons echo the voices of the Ancients and the red pinnacles touch the sky. A lone horseman gallops in the distance, plumes of dust trailing his passage. Like a dark shadow, his silhouette is clearly outlined against the towering plateaus in the valley. As he rides toward me, I find myself hypnotized by the fluid movements of animal and man. I can hear the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves as they echo endlessly. The first to appear is the horse, a beautiful roan stallion with a spotted rump and flowing ribbons tied to his mane. Atop his bare back is a young rider, a proud, handsome face… his dark eyes amplified below the red bandana wrapped around his forehead. The hot sun has already chiseled his face to mirror the hard landscape.  Beautiful black hair, the color of a raven’s wing, flows down his bare back. Bright, colored beads adorned the braids over his ears, while silver bracelets grace each wrist.  Wearing only a breechcloth and moccasins, his skin is a dark bronze, a blend of desert and sun. He carries only a small leather pouch hanging from his shoulder and a sheathed knife stuck into his waistband. Riding pass me, it is as if I am invisible with not a glance of curiosity. Onward the rider goes, disappearing into the shimmering waves of heat, into a beautiful land of fantasy, rituals and dreams. All that endure today are the memories that no race of men or women lived with more passion, poetry and honor than the early Native American tribes. Never have there been braver knights, more reckless horsemanship, and such tragic nobility. They created a legendary history that will never die and their poetry made in sacrifice and in blood will forever touch a light to my spirit.

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One Response to The Horseman

  1. Sattaasyfunda says:

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