Rest Now, Carriage Horse

You do not have to walk with troubles, nor carry the burden of those who abused you through sweltering heat and bruised winters. You will not be a worker, but an earthen animal. A purpose is found in your abundant freedom.

And when forgiving those who wronged you,

remember to spare a bit of grace for yourself.

You may now stop to smell the roses

without heaving the smoggy city air.

New York is left with the steel horseshoes;

embrace the soil beneath your naked hooves.

The golden clouds greet your rugged mane,

shown only to God and to the grazing fields.

No longer will you trek with heaviness.

You travel as a Pegasus and not a carriage horse.


Sawyer Fell


18 years old

More by Sawyer Fell

  • Written Meals

    I do not know how to bake 
    something from scratch, 
    like my mother’s cookies. 
    With her instinctual precision 
    and her habitual familial ease. 
    I did not inherit this side of her.

  • On Being Vane

    Somewhere between a flower and a coffin
    lies the colorless sunrise outside your windows.
    I am devoted and still breathing like the Elin.
    You are innocent and still sleeping like the Pothos.

  • As She Pleases

    To be a woman
    is to be a banquet.
    Eclectic, savory, distinguished.
    A summer potluck of femininity;
    a Thanksgiving toast to masculinity;
    an Easter brunch with androgyny.