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Wild Horses

In that sacred stillness of meditation, as I breathed into the unknown of 2026, a vision ignited. A majestic wild horse at the edge of an endless field, her coat shimmering like stained glass under dawn light. She stood heavy with chains of old doubts, tangled vines of societal expectations, and the quiet exhaustion of wearing masks for approval. Then, with a fierce shake, she shed it all: silence armored in fear, colors hidden behind borrowed eyes, the weight of performing instead of being. Unburdened, naked as birth, she thundered into freedom, wind in her mane, earth trembling beneath untamed hooves. This stained glass artwork and poem capture her fire, echoing the Year of the Fiery Horse: pure reclamation, my ritual for us all.

Selene Veil

1/23/20261 min read

I was born naked
Light, untethered, wild.

Then came voices, soft and persuasive,
Teaching me how to earn belonging.
So I let them dress my silence in fear,
Hide my colors behind borrowed eyes,
Pack my power deep in the carriage

Of other people’s comfort.

I learned to carry things.
Things that never belonged to me.
Words I never spoke,
Outfits I never wore,
Dreams I never dared to claim,
Until my spine forgot how to dance.

The years grew heavy.
The carriage, heavier.
I built it from swallowed chances,
Hitched myself to sorrow
And called it survival.

I gave rides to the undeserving,
Traded my strength for crumbs of affection,
Filled every corner with their luggage
Until there was no room left for me.

Still, I pulled.
Dragging that boulder through seasons of silence.
Until my spine forgot its rhythm.
Until my hooves sank in the wet soil of approval.
Until the reins burned my skin raw.
Until the muzzle silenced my scream.

My spine ached.
My breath burned.
My legs turned to iron.
My heart raced just to keep up.
My spirit forgot
What freedom even smelled like.

I told myself this burden is armour.
This exhaustion is discipline.
This ache is proof that I am strong,

A warrior.

But then I remembered the wind,
How it once tasted of beginning.

I remember now.
I was born naked.

So I unhooked the reins,
Dropped the saddle,
Stripped myself bare,
Left the carriage rusting in the mud.

No more harness.
No more leash.
No more smallness
Disguised as love.

The wind found me again,
Laughing her wild laughter.
She whispered, run.

And I did.

I ran until the noise dissolved.
I ran until my heartbeat became thunder.
I ran until the wild in me
Roared louder than their expectations.

And to those still waiting for the show
Your seat’s still there,
In that broken rusted carriage.

I am not a show horse.
Not a carnival horse.
Not a carriage horse.
Not a racing horse.
Not a knight’s horse.

I was born naked.
And now,
I run
With the wild horses.

Wild Horses

CeduDesigns