Equus Ferus Caballus
You are missing an eye. The left. Of which the socket is punctuated by flies. And a lingering of violence. A ripe fruit of ticks sully your flanks. Drunk. I will not interfere in your communion. Nor be your feeding hand. Remember. That night by the road. Beneath a canopy of burnt trees. Kerkorrel. You scaled the shallow bank of grass. A phantom drawn against the canvas of failing dusk and trunks. Onto the cleft road. Vulnerable as a lip. I smelt of return then. You of breaking surf.
//Ancestors of the Rooisand wild horse first reached the Cape via early Dutch settlers in the 17th century. Primarily used on farms and subsequently the Anglo-Boer war - the breed came near extinction following the rise of industrialisation. Over time - their hooves have evolved in width to tread the surrounding wetland. They face no predator//
South Africa 2014