The Grange

Neighing of the horses breaks the morning silence. The wet clouds of heat from Astor`s nostrils colide with morning frost and turn into tiny, shiny, barely visible drops. Foggy curtain lifts, floating, slowly, inequally, and warbling above silent, waste and frozen plough fields. The clump of Astor`s hoofs, on clods of ground hard as stone and barely visible under piles of dried leaves, calms me down. The warm body of the animal and its equal breath always bring me back a bit of ease lost in everyday rush. The mornings above the granges on Čenej, silent and burdened, full of barns, cattle and poultry, are nice. I like watching the peace of centuries old houses out of which from the early morning one can see thin clouds of smoke and purple rays slowly rising above ruinous, crooked roofs. In yards, here and there, one can see a lonely well, scratching sadly and wearily, still bringing juices from water veins of this fruitful plough field. In distance, there are the woods hiding endless space of golden land.

Astor, under me, instantly becomes fidgety, anxiously starts snorting and prancing. “ Easy boy“ I prattle the black beauty, with strong legs and warm dark eyes who looks as if born by this land. I observe its hoofs which swiftly dig the land under and I spot the spiky ball in a pile of leaves rolling aside. “It’s ok, it’s ok!” I calm the restless animal down in a quiet voice, patting its long neck covered with beautiful and shiny mane falling onto his strong back. Snorting becomes weaker and anxiety leaves Astor’s body. I make it trot so that both of us can leave unrest behind, each their own. And while riding in joyful gallop and the feeling of freedom takes off the shawl of sorrow, we dive into a wave where time does not exist. At the same time, leaving peaceful landscapes behind us, with a few vans from which peasants kindly say back hello, in my mind there are still images from the previous night, full of colours and taste of love. We approach the stable and I can feel Astor’s joy in his neighing announcing its return. The warm stable, familiar smell of hay and a beautiful head of filly Aska peeping out of stall, pull him inside with its invisible threads. With a smile on my face, I observe two heads in a gentle touch sniffing each other, cleaning sweat from Astor’s body with my hand full of hay and leaves. Then I sense the familiar touch on my neck, taking off my scarf and wiping my face and then diving his face in silk to inhale the scent of my skin. Why does my heart get wild and beat faster than Astor’s pulse in his fastest gallop whenever I feel that touch, which makes me burn, and whose flame I sometimes hide behind the walls resembling quiet?

Strong kick of Astor’s hoofs stops my hand in attempt to reach his face and makes me startle. Nostrils wide open, neighing loudly, he kicks the wooden fence before him. All of a sudden, I see an enraged animal, with wild urge, which I don’t recognize. I try to calm this dark giant down with careful moves but he is prancing and its hoofs would almost land on me if his hands did not pull me away towards him. With boiling blood, Astor insanely banged his head against the wooden obstacle. In his arms, puzzled and scared, at safe distance, I observe the sudden change in the behavior of my beloved animal. I am looking for Aska and I see she is lying. My trembling fingers reach for his hand and drag him with me to watch the scene in front of us.

Aska is quietly lying in hay. Unusually still, a bit tired. With her head aside…And then I notice a wet head emerging, then a little hoof…a foal…Beautiful, little, weak, peeping out of pasture squatted by its mother’s warm body. Without a word, we open the door and Astor walks in, dignified and proud. At the very moment, the unrest leaves his thighs. He sniffs Aska and the foal gently and stands above them protectively. Warmth, peace and joy filled the whole stable. His fingers reached for mine this time and I place my face on his chest, where the music of heart drives the unrest away and brings the peace. Warmth, a wonderful wave of happiness, the safe strong hug…that new life, the trace of light which always wakes us up in bliss and irradiates, fulfils my eyes. It makes me look for the meaning of my constant running away from the forest of love overgrown with thick plants of fear which do not let me see the path. And he, as always, feels that wave which comes to my eyes and makes a dam with gentle kisses. I tremble…I do not know…Out of happiness, weariness, magnificent beauty which comes along with a new life…but the weakness overwhelms me, pulling down the walls of my bulwark. ‘Take me home!’ I whisper silently…

For P.U.L.S.E World / Suncica Torbica

Posted by on 10. March 2014.. Filed under P.U.L.S.E,Stories, Poetry, Travels. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

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