Faint Echos of responsibility for Art-Day
Arabian horses come into your life as an apparition of beauty, pleading for understanding, honesty and integrity. We all have a responsibility to lead them in a safe and true direction. The moment I laid eyes on Jill Vanstones inspiring painting ‘HISTORY MYSTERY AND MAGIC’ I knew I had to write something…
‘History Mystery and Magic’ by Jill Vanstone www.jillvanstone.com
FAINT ECHOS
by
Carmel Rowley
A faint echo woke her. ‘Come see my beauty, come ride the moon…’
She was convinced it was a dream. Leaving her bed she tiptoed to the window to listen before pushing the curtains aside. Moonlight flooded the space. Something was out there, her skin prickled.
Bathed in the silver and blue light of the winter’s night a tide of movement surged as one across the hills and towards the house. Two hundred white horses appeared, etched silver spirits, all high stepping, splendour and grace. They slowed from a gallop to a floating trot shaking their wild tangled manes as they circled and paused. The two in front raised their heads to draw a deep breath exhaling a misty cloud of defiance.
Startled she slid open the window, the freezing night air biting into her face and arms. Hardly daring to breathe she heard the tidings floating on the air. ‘The moon is my sun, the night my protection. If I finish and fade will you weep?’
Their message confused her. Would the longed for horses return? What did it mean?
Over the next weeks she heard nothing. Night after night she lay awake and waited for the faint murmur. The world turned, and as the full moon rose and the beams of light streamed in through her window, at last she heard the echo. ‘Come see my beauty, come ride the moon…’
She rushed to the window, flinging it open eagerly leaning forward to call a welcome. The words stuck in her throat. She squinted trying to count, there was no need, the numbers were half! Why have they gone? Tears streamed down her face and as each droplet splashed to the ground, glinting in the moonlight, the number of horses increased. The echo of understanding reached her ears. ‘I conjure your tears while you capture my beauty. I hand you the reins of my ancestors and plead you to listen. Come see my beauty, come ride the moon…’’
They flowed from the shadows and plunged as one, again two hundred.
Copyright Carmel Rowley
4 Responses
Liz vanderlinde
Oh Carmel how beautifully you write. For a moment I too watched through the window…I too near shed a tear. The writing reminds me of the style of the silver brumby series.
Carmel
Thanks so much Liz. The painting is wonderfully mysterious quite inspirational.
Lovey Manteit
I see this beautiful painting and I too am transformed from this reality. A poetry of words so elegantly written to carry the reader deeper into the midst and light of the omnipotent hushed. There is an inconceivable aura that encompasses only the worthy. The desire to encounter that privilege again becomes an internal overwhelming desperation. How is one to rest? How is one to allow the glimmer of tears to evaporate before a warm breath has an opportunity to whisper a kiss of gratitude.
Thank you Carmel for your inspirational and eloquent story of “FAINT ECHOS” You manage to carry me every time I read your works.
Carmel Rowley
Dear Lovey, What an amazing response. My sincere thanks for your understanding of my message and your thought provoking words.
Fondest Carmel