Wild horses of the West

persecuted as modern-day pests

not allowed to breathe or rest

even newborn foals are put to the test

BLM bought by the cattlemen’s lobby

makes helicopter roundups a thrilling new hobby.

Humans brutally force the iconic horse

with no sense of history or an ounce of remorse.

The spindly legs of foals are broken

as if wild horse freedom were a mere token.

The stallions jump over or through corral fences,

flight or fight their only defenses.

Wind-whipped spirit on a distant hill,

the lead mare strains with survivor’s will

attempts to discern foe from friend,

ready to flee, tails flicking ‘round the bend.

Don’t crowd me or make me bolt.

Don’t force me to revolt.

Help me preserve my wildness and freedom.

When I am ready, I will listen.