“The Horse I Once Feared”

by Dora Dinnova

I rode a horse in my dream.
But not just any horse.
It was wild once.
Unridden.
Untouched.
And yet—
I had cracked the code of its rhythm.
It followed me, not out of fear,
but through some silent language
only trust could speak.

We began to move,
slow at first—
then faster,
as if the wind had hands
and we were holding them.
I didn’t need a saddle.
Just a rope in my palm
and a necklace around its heart.
No comfort, no control—
only connection.

The destination was near,
but I wasn’t ready to stop.
I needed to taste the speed—
not for the goal,
but for the feeling
of flowing with something once feared.
So I let it run.
And it did.
Smooth. Effortless.
As if the earth knew I belonged on its back.

When I asked it to stop,
I signaled too sharply—
and it slid,
but it stopped,
perfectly.
I wasn’t hurt.
Not even shaken.
There was grace in the stumble,
and softness in the strength.

I dismounted,
my bare feet touching the ground
as if returning to something sacred.
I looked for a tree to tie it to,
but before I could—
the horse bowed its head and began to eat.
Unbothered.
At peace.

Then it turned to me—
and asked for kisses.

So I kissed it.
Again, and again.
Babied it like something precious,
not powerful.
I felt my heart stretch
with a love I hadn’t known I’d been carrying
for something I once thought I had to control.

And then I walked away.

Not in sadness.
Not in fear.
But in knowing…

What I once feared,
I had learned to guide.
What I once needed to master,
I had learned to love.
And what once ran wild,
now trusted me enough to stay behind
and feed.