Child on the Sand

Driven before the scouring wind
feather light and bloodied feet
how can a child fly so far and fast
what dread is it she fears to meet
Soft sand of summer play
now harsh the salt stings hard
but the salt in her tears
stings harder still

Her heart hammers
like the pounding of axes
on the body of her father
her gasps like those of her mother
when they held her down
But what she fears the most
the cold stillness of them all
when she crept back
crying in the dark

No grave or burning for them
left as they died before gloating priest
painted cross on broken doors
carved crosses on dead cold flesh
nails and fingers smashed
no spells left to cast
from her mothers hand
her final effort cast protection
over her youngest child

And now she is running
with the dogs and hunters
raging up from behind
and the white surf horses  
crashing down to her side
sweeping up over the stained sand
and as they surge they listen to her voice

~~

"Horses from the ocean
spirits of the sea
aid me in my time of need
help to keep me free
remember you my mother
all the healing from my kin
how we cared for all that breathed
the love we held within"

~~

The hunting pack is closing now
sharp claws tearing her bloodprint steps
men and beasts as one in their desire
to rend and tear and harm
this small child of peace and care
no hurt was ever in her mind
but now she runs with hollow fear
no mother left to hold her near

From far behind a pounding roar
like the pounding of the waves
but mixed now with the stamp of hooves
that come to chase and save
Whitest horses of the Sea
flying now upon the strand
racing in a mighty line
shake the very land

For all the ancient deeds now done
from this child's  line of old
they come to show their gratitude
to ancient vows they hold
No dogs or men can face such force
flashing hooves and streaming manes
and when the herd has run it's course
there is silence once again

But as the White Herd passes on
returning to the sea
no child now runs upon the sand
just one horse racing free

~*~

A Mother waits for coming dawn
and  the white mare from the sea
she watches how it circles her
so proud and strong and free
It stands before her straining
and she strokes and wipes it down
the queen of the Ocean Horses
she needs to bear no crown

And as the daylight comes to them
the horse brings forth new life
a naked form upon the ground
she gathered up from strife
Carried  far with gentleness
to a chosen mother's care
fear and running now are done
for the child born of the mare