And so she returns to Summer,
Long days on the high grasslands
Laid out flat on the back of a silent black horse, she sleeps in the sun.
Christmas Jane eats peyote,
And hears bells.
There are no churches out here;
Just the wind that's born at the ends of her hair,
Making it long to travel.
Christmas Jane sends a post card home;
Sleeps with a guy in the heat mirage morning,
And with a girl under the stars that night.
It is not so bad, this loose wandering.
She loves the buffalo herds, both ghostly and real,
And stays between their hooves, light as a feather, easy and unharmed.
Christmas Jane loves the Autumn,
The fires that begin,
And the smoke in the air.
Whoever she is, she isn't Christmas Jane anymore,
But her black horse will carry her across the frost
To the next place,
Always,
With a nicker she interprets
As a prayer.
'just the wind that's born at the ends of her hair/making it long to travel...' Love the enormous sense in this poem of freedom and release. The seasons seem invested with life and personality, even as Jane seems to let those things all merge, while letting loss wash over her and move on. Lovely, insightful poem, Shay.
ReplyDeleteI feel the wind in my hair, landscape flying by, I'm free falling .. feeling good.
ReplyDeletelovely textures to jane...a free spirit roaming...i like to the horse prayers..and bells in the wind at the end of her hair...lovely shay
ReplyDeleteOh, to be so free and unencumbered by the normal and routine day-to-day responsibilities we create for ourselves. Lovely imagery.
ReplyDeleteThis poem - and story - could not be any more beautiful. I absolutely relished every single word - all the hooves, the horse's back, the buffalos, and, especially the "nicker she interprets as a prayer". BEAUTIFUL, kiddo.
ReplyDeleteAs always, Shay, your poetry transports me.
ReplyDeleteThis made me smile. Perhaps, there is hope after all.
ReplyDeleteMakes me feel like a dreaming child.
ReplyDeleteVery understated and ethereal. Here's hoping that Jane eventually finds solitude in an earthly pursuit.
ReplyDelete" Christmas Jane eats peyote,
ReplyDeleteAnd hears bells.
There are no churches out here;
Just the wind that's born at the ends of her hair "
I think we dated back when. . .
Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
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how can you sleep on the back of a horse? that's gonna bug me. :)
ReplyDeleteWandering and grazing is good ...
ReplyDeletebeautiful! your poem and all the horses! i haven't heard that song in years!
ReplyDelete{astronauts?}{giggle}