Pegasus the Horse,

flesh, muscle and speed

pulsing beating heart

respiration sounds like a storm, like wind,

like the feeling of having overcome,

having been able to outrun

sweat on a wet coat

smooth and shiny with shadows showing strength

running, leaping, all in stride

rhythm unbroken,

innate and ongoing

four legs, articulate tail, and a mane that softens with the air we breathe

Pegasus the Bird of Prey,

soaring, feathered power circling upwards

effortless manipulation of energy flowing in abundance

responsive to weather, pressure, heat, rain, clouds,

moving up and moving down

water repellant, wind empowered,

visions of the future, past, present

internal sight

movement requiring the here and now,

touching down, touching in

depth perception, far sighted, and precise

surrender and stability,

relying only its natural shape

nature makes no mistakes

Pegasus My Flesh,

colors bleed like the Uruguayan sunset

pink, turquoise, orange, yellow, purple into blue

colors to brighten my view

fierce and ready to protect,

this flesh taken back, this wound taken back

my body reclaimed with needles and sweat and color and tears

and a coincidental song takes on new meaning within the vastness of this pain, and the clearness of this purpose

a spirit transcends, charges ahead with thick thighed legs

draws the line between all that is possible

and all that I once feared

erases distance, cultivates a feeling of interconnection

Pegasus to mark the Ending,

leaving trampled memories like ashes returning to the Earth

triggers and sensations refer no longer to my Breaking, but instead

to my own Becoming

giving birth

conflicted identity formerly conflated with an indescribable sorrow,

held tenderly,

reveals beneath its own tension and pulling,

a flexibly firm knowing

full of the moment’s unquenchable longing

Pegasus to mark the Beginning,

unfolding, freeing, celebrating and breathing

weighty and thunderous

sometimes quiet and light

my wings, my speed

the clear sensing eyes of an animal untamed

my return, marked forever with each breath I take

the ribcage of holding, of self-protection, patterned by

this Story,

still so much unfolding, still so much untold,

importantly, still moving

drawing in,

expanding out,

soaring

galloping

free.

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Editorial Assistant: Dana Gornall/Catherine Monkman

Photo Credit: Eddi Van W./Flickr