Your village neglected
to teach you how to ride drag.
Eating enough dust
to develop an appetite for
Caring for the weakest and slowest
by gently nudging
Stragglers back into the herd
where they will not be
Picked off by wolves and rustlers.

No one ever gifted you
a length of rope
Spending hours
throwing loops at everything
Discovering the
geometry and physics of patience while
Learning how easily one
can break something fragile with a
careless placement of that loop.

No range boss chose you
to ride for their outfit
So you could learn
the language of the herd
And that your hands, seat, and eyes
Signal your truth
more than words.
Is this why you are
so lonely, so violent, so broken?