Sometimes, you feel like your view is blocked, like your attitude is blocked, like some part of your life is blocked. Sometimes you feel as if the best you can do is blindly feel your way down a corridor and hope that there is an other side. Sometimes the corridor gets so long, you don’t think that there is an other side. And sometimes you just sit down and put your head on your knees and pray.
In voodoo they believe god is a horse – actually they believe you are the horse and god is the rider, but either way, when you pray to god, you’re supposed to just hold on and let it ride. And on some days – whether you’re a believer or not – that’s all you can do just to get by.
Riding A One-Eyed Horse
by Henry Taylor
One side of his world is always missing.
You may give it a casual wave of the hand
or rub it with your shoulder as you pass,
but nothing on his blind side ever happens.
Hundreds of trees slip past him into darkness,
drifting into a hollow hemisphere
whose sounds you will have to try to explain.
Your legs will tell him not to be afraid
if you learn never to lie. Do not forget
to turn his head and let what comes come seen:
he will jump the fences he has to if you swing
toward them from the side that he can see
and hold his good eye straight. The heavy dark
will stay beside you always; let him learn
to lean against it. It will steady him
and see you safely through diminished fields.