At fifty-eight years of age, I did not expect to find myself in the care of a horse, much less an older, traumatized one. She came to me broken - thin, wary, mistrustful. And truthfully, I was just as fragile. Maybe we recognized that in each other. This collection began not as an artistic endeavor, but as a way to process something much deeper than words: the transformation that happens when two beings - horse and human - choose to show up for one another, day after day. Slowly. Gently. Honestly.
Caring for this mare became more than routine; it became sacred. Every feeding, every quiet grooming session, every flick of an ear or soft eye contact became part of our shared language. Through her, I began to see the value of patience, the necessity of boundaries, the strength in stillness. Horses do not perform to your emotions - they respond to your energy. They do not ask for perfection; only presence. What this Lady taught me
could never be summed up in instruction manuals or training books. She taught me how to be fully in the moment. How to rebuild trust without words. How to stand firm with softness. How to listen to something beyond sound. She also taught me that healing isn't linear. Some days, she was brave. Some days she turned away. I understood that. Some days, I did too. But we stayed. We showed up for each other, and something beautiful began to grow from that quiet loyalty.
This collection is for her, and for every "Lady" out there - horse or human - who carries invisible scars but continues on anyway. These poems are intertwined with gratitude and reverence.
My friend, I'm glad you're here to laugh, cry and yes, even nicker with us.
