Brown Beauty

This is not a poem about a black girl
This is about a horse.

Have you ever seen a wild horse galloping across a field?
Have you ever felt the presence of the beauty of God’s creation?
Have you ever looked into her eye and felt a peace you could not explain?

We people like labels
Or at least we seem to–
given the amount we use them.

We pigeon-hole and judge
and stereotype and then prejudge–
all before lunch.

We act as though political correctness
(so we call it)
has something to do with love, understanding, and respect.

Of course,
it does not.

But a horse has majesty
It does not need our words
It does not need my words
does not need these words.

She does not concern herself with race
She is beautiful.
She does not concern herself with names
She is beautiful.
She does not concern herself with groups
except her band.

She is beautiful and her dignity is beyond what we with our pride usually can see.

When she runs it is as though the whole of creation rejoices
But we care about names
We care about colour
We care about money
We care about power
We care about ourselves and we pay so little attention to our band.

I have seen the brown beauty in the wild and she is wonderful.
We have thin skins and selfish hearts and we do not see each other hardly at all.
We care about fat and thin
We do not see.
We care about tall and short
We do not see.
We care about black and white
We are blind and we run away from the things that would heal us.

Brown beauty,
Who gallops across the plains
Is a gift that we should cherish,
And from her learn.

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