Affection for the Appaloosa

Because you came to me as a child,
brought to me by mothers father,
and when he asked what Id name you,
because Id dreamt you for so long,
I said Id name you Dreamer.  
Because you are, like me,
covered in freckles.
Because your body calls out perfection,
the way you move over the meadows,
the Cariboo snow drifting through your mane.
Because you are vegetarian.
Because you came to North America from Russia,
and you swam from the boat to shore.
Because you were my best friend.
Because at the beginning of the twentieth century
you were almost extinct.
Because I told you all my secrets.
Because you are visible (spotted and filled with splendor)
in art dating 500 years before Christ in China.
Because you are depicted in cave drawings in France,
which date back 20,000 years.
Because you won the Belgium saddle breed championship.
Because you carried me through childhood, 
and past adolescence.
Because your hoofs have stripes.
Because you can have a comfortable gait, 
sometimes called the Indian Shuffle.
Because you are my favourite word.
Because when you died, I dug your grave 
with my grandfathers shovel, and I planted 
wild flowers and raspberry bushes over your body.
Because some accounts say the Spanish brought you
to North America, and I met a freckled-gypsy boy 
in Madrid who couldnt pronounce my name.
Because you were the first body I leaned 
my own into; the first one I trusted;
the first to teach me how to fall.

© Heather Simeney MacLeod