The wild horse of childhood reared up its forelegs

And kicked back the rage that rushed towards me.

I held on with trust and never fell off,

Never fell down there in the dirt.

The steady strong breathing of my steed quieted me, kept me above the foray on the ground.

But I still cared, I still saw.

I reached my hand down to lift them up

So they could be above it, too.

But they slapped my wrist and the flank of my horse.

It reared up its forelegs

And kicked back the pain that rushed towards me.

I held on with trust and never fell off.

My horse raced away, carrying me with aching heart

To a safe and peaceful place

Where I breathe strong, on the ground, near my steed.

And the world is suddenly mine.

— ( c ) St. John 2009