The price of a racehorse

The price of a racehorse

Neither defines its worth nor designates its place
She is only as good as her last day
Only as fast as she can be

There are no guarantees

No insurance.

What is the return on investment?
When is the horse trusted to run fast?
Really fast?
Everyday.

The price of a racehorse
Is relative
Only to the price of other racehorses.

{If housework was quantifiable,
Men would have to be stay-at-home moms too.}
       good thing wives come cheap.

The price of a racehorse is hope.
Hours of training go unaccounted for.
You'll never pay for a trainer’s lost sleep.

Dedication cannot be bought.
Inspiration cannot be forced.
Legs cannot be bound
So they never break.

How does one train a horse to run fast?

Is it through force or suggestion?
Inspiration or starvation?

Will the owner, the payee, ever be satisfied?
Will the return on investment ever be noted?
Noticed. 

You could be doing better. I know you can.

Or is it part of the game—to constantly push, to constantly hope, to constantly withhold, to constantly demand and admonish.

Every race a new track. Every gun fired for the first time. Every gate, every judge, every clock, without memory, without prejudice.
Eyes unseeing.

The racehorse runs until she dies.
{This doesn’t have to be as terrible as it sounds.}

What was it all for?
Was her investment returned?
Was she more trouble than ribbons? Did her cost balance her wins?
Will people remember her when she’s left the track?

There is no price one can set for another.
There is no return on investment if one is never satisfied, if one plays so hard, pushes so fiercely, demands the world
Every day.
moments of amazing streaks of speed and grace,           are missed.

Faerie dust in the dustpan.
Horses  after horses after horses,
and where o where to put the decimal point?

There is no insurance that the race will always be won because it never happens always.

Trust
Is built, not demanded.
Trust is faith.
        Not empirical.

The price of a racehorse is dreams tied together with hope surrounding a package of desire.
        It is elusive at best.

And the horse?
She will run as fast as she can

Because she loves the feel of air
Coursing fast over her face, ears set back, four hooves afloat
        A streak of will and heft, power and grace
Both.

A pull from within
To be as bold as wind, singular as horizon
Inspired by no     one     named

Owned by             nothing
But that moment,

that whoosh.

2 January 2009

Comments

[Marika @ madcap]

So beautiful. Tears welled up in me. And it made my heart race.

[katrina]

Zowie. That is breathtaking, Shuna. The drive for perfection comes from within........

[Mighty katz]

that horse she runs
because the fire of passion
inside her
won't let her stop
and the feel of the wind on her skin
feeds her soul

[Kelley G.]

And so we are. And so we are the only ones who can decide to wander off the track and down aimless paths that go nowhere just because there are neat things to look at down that path. I remember daily the advice you gave me to choose a path not normally taken and so I do when I remember to or when I can convince myself it's okay. And on another note entirely, I want that eye shadow! What?!! Love it.

[Lucy]

Wow. Nice. Thanks.