ODE TO COWGIRLS

When….then….and so on…and so on and so on.
Our lives are all a series of stories after all
Some say…
Some say: yes.
Some say: no.
Some say: maybe.
Some say: after all.
When I was a little girl I remember my first rodeo, my first boots, my first hat, and yes the most treasured object my first horse.

Yes our lives are a series of stories.
Some long…
Some short…
Some never get told at all.

We live, we love, we work, we remember, and we forget.

But we don’t forget the longing and the desire.

When I was a little girl
I wanted to be a cowboy girl.
Was there room for me to be a cowboy-girl?
Was there a place at the show for me to play?
Was I strong enough?
Was I man enough?
Was I able to ride?
Was I able to hold on when the going got tough?

Was I a horseman or horsewoman ?.
Could I ride in the saddle and handle the horse?

Could I get thrown?
And if I got throwed then…
Could I get up and act like it didn’t matter?
Or would I cry like a girl or would I cry like a boy?

What was this desire for a horse all about any way….??

Maybe desire was a way to be free…yes to ride and to see life from the back of a horse galloping in the wide open spaces without the things that bind us.

Or was it the bareback race that made my legs grip the barrel chest of my horse so I could experience life at near death?

Yes the thrill of speed and the danger as the wind goes against me and the horse…. and so on and so on.
Cai yai yippie yai ya.
lm