Beating of the Hooves
© 2010, Olan L. Smith
Wild horses galloping -- their hooves
Pounding the soil and dust,
Delivered by wind, spirals upward toward heaven.
"Take me, oh gentle breeze,
Upward, ever aloft,
So I might speak with God.
I am mere dust, Lord;
I ask one question
Of you, "Why do I suffer?"
The wind whispers,
"Gentle soul -- I created you in my likeness,
And I did suffer.
For you I died and on behalf of you I live.
So, do not speak to me of affliction,
Rather, ask me why I should love you?"
With those words I settle to the earth
As I listen to the beating of the hooves,
And wild horses gallop beyond the ridge.