The Painted Horses

Dormant among the memories
of fear sharpened by upraised fists
and kicks that came fast,
joyful ones break through the dark.

Playing cards by lantern's light,
cooking on a camp stove,
shivering in front of the fireplace,
four days of forced togetherness
broken by the lights coming on.

A day trip to the beach,
seven bodies in an old station wagon,
filing out in haste to claim our space,
snacks and music and laughter,
sun-weary and quiet on the ride home.

A Christmas Eve at Walmart,
each of us with twenty bucks in hand,
a secret Santa list to fill a stocking,
carts pushed quickly with side-eyed stealth,
in an hour-long game of cat and mouse.

The carousel of my life,
riders coming and going,
loving the music of the ride,
always watching the operator
for when he'd had enough,
flipping the switch to off
as we all ran for cover.

The ride sits empty now,
but even with the sudden stops,
even when we found ourselves
inside a maze of warped mirrors,
the painted horses still rose and fell,
and in those moments, there was light.




Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 10 times
Written on 2026-09-24 at 19:38

Tags Family  Trauma  Memories 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text