Falling off the saddle - Malika Bouhdili

Falling off the saddle

With wild mares bare and bucking

Rousing dust, crazed and shuffling

Metal hooves and there my body.

On the dirt beds of disturbances

I cannot see safety

Because there is none.

Sometimes there is none.

So I wait

I wouldn’t say patiently

Rather, resigned to trembling,

Fetal and limp on the ground.

Wait

For each stallion to writhe and rear

For unrestrained impulses

To exhaust to their natural end.

From the lowly footing of having fallen so many times

I think the bruises sting much more than the sages say.

I wish I had better news.

One more time I stroke the beast’s quieted leg

One more time I sing to it

One more time

With dust settled and hands still shaking

Will I pat its giant belly,

Will I marvel at its terrifying power,

Will I climb up to ride again.

Dear, Dear Malika.