Nelson

Once, I was a body that ran.
Ran for the sound of the whip,
for the fear of teeth and hooves behind me,
for the rope that held me still when all I wanted was air. 

They called me strong – a champion, a lesson horse, a safe pair of legs.
But no one saw the tremor in my heart, the way my eyes searched the horizon for a place that did not bind or chase. 

Then one day, the world shifted.
A new scent – sweet grass and rain.
A new quiet, where the wind whispered instead of shouting.
 

And then – her eyes. 

Not measuring, not naming.
Just meeting.
Soft as dusk light, steady as the ground beneath my hooves.
She looked, and I felt the gaze land – not on me, but in me. 

She saw through the dust and the fear,
past the racing heart and trembling skin.
She saw the spark – the warrior, the dreamer,
the part of me that had not yet given up. And in that moment,
something rose in me –
a breath I didn’t know I was holding,
a widening of the chest,
a remembering of space. I stood taller.
Not for show – but from truth.
The herd around me no longer shadows of threat,
but brothers, sisters –
reflections of the same longing for peace. 

Now, I walk freely.
The rope is gone, the fear is fading.
I play, I graze, I rest in the open sky. 

I am Nelson. I am someone. 

Main image: Georgina Weston Photography