My Carousel Horse

 Carousels are known for their characteristic steel horses, coated in radiant colors of paint. When the sun gleams upon them it causes your eyes to shift in their direction for a glance. They stand tall attached with their aluminum poles holding their head up high with pride.  Their eyes stare into yours, as if they are looking into your soul for they ache for a human touch. People step upon these carousels and use a selective process to choose the right horse for their enjoyable ride. They walk past a dozen or so horses eyeing up and down. People touch them trying to discover the perfect one to ride as if selecting mate. The lights beaming and cheerful music playing entices one to ride the never ending circle of amusement..
I benefit from walking in the park carrying the load of my thoughts  feeling the weight of them dragging me down.  Unaware as to how far and where I was walking, I had stopped at the carousel.  I stopped and found myself uncontrollably staring as if in a trance. This energy was pulling me towards the carousel as if I was a fish being reeled in for the catch of the day. The lights were flashing and the accordion music was playing. Carousels remind me of the circus days as a child. Feeling like a cowboy lassoed me I was yanked onto the platform of horses.  I walk through the aisles of two horses side by side; passing the 3 seated family bench horse in search for my horse. While passing the horses you see in their eyes the yearning as they say “Chose me chose me”.   I feel a sense of sadness for all of these horses because each one is confident they will be chosen. You feel their strength, their power. Yet for myself I am not interested in them. My body does not respond to any of them. No spark, no magnetism, or desire to mount one. Startled by the announcer;
“The ride will begin, please mount your horses”
I fall back onto a single horse. His head down sullenly looking  down at the platform. He presented  no glance towards me as to offer a ride.  He has a sleek bodice that gleams no shine. His paint is not as brilliant like the others. His coat is a faded blue gray. Deep sadness is pouring out of his eyes, reminding me of a puppy dog waiting in a window for there owner.   Just staring at him I see the years of exhaustion life has put upon him. His slumped posture showing he’s given up.   He has accepted this is how his life is to be. He is worn-out  from being ridden and  used for others enjoyment.  He is lonely. He longs to break free of the ride but has no more energy to try.  Slowly I move  my hand along his bodice and without thought grabbed his faded aluminum pole and mounted onto his back. He feels so right. His bodice was full of crackled paint chipping onto the floor. My internal desire tells me, he needs me to ride him, I’m connected to him. I place my hands in his scruffy mane and glide them across his sunken face. His steel is so cold making it hard to touch without wanting to pull away. I sense his resistance is his fear not rejection. He doesn’t want to give a ride, he has forgotten how.  Being alone is easier for him.  As my legs are wrapped around his torso they became chilled from his body.    My hands travel around his neck lowering my head to be equal with his eyes. Those brown eyes looked into mine saying “stay I give you permission”. The ride begins with a sudden jerk and begins it  slow turn of the carousel. The music churning slowly begins cranking like a windup toy.  I am aware of him beneath me questioning what he is feeling as he squirms.  He doesn’t allow anyone to ride him. He hasn’t allowed anyone to enjoy him for he doesn’t trust.  He is so hesitant.
As the ride accelerates, his head lifts up and he begins to awaken. His posture becomes poised from his feelings that are stirring and disturbed, my body embraces him tighter. He senses my warmth and allows me to cover him as if I was his custom made saddle blanket. He feels hope, love, and forgiveness. Buried emotions come to the surface as he is moving up and down in rhythm with the others. . He embraces the enjoyment of me on his back, allowing me into him. He is inviting me to see what he is. He has countless years of pain and anguish to release.  Also he realizes how many years of happiness he has buried beneath the faded  coat of paint. His paint chips peel off  the way paint flakes of a shingle. They plunge to ground the way a snake sheds his skin .The warmth from my body has awoken him. His internal desire ignites a spark he hasn’t felt in years. A feeling of happiness he believed was lost and forgotten. He is  standing taller than the other horses. He has found his strength. The other horses notice him and wonder why he is the only one being ridden. They see him awakening.  
He feels acceptance for the first time. This woman has accepted him with his faded paint. She doesn’t judge his brokenness. His pain lessening as the chipped paint flakes off. He cannot understand why she wants all of him with no expectations. He feels alive again. He experiences happiness and a sense of freedom. Knowing the ride is slowing down he doesn’t want it to finish, but, in life everything must . The carousel decelerates and he becomes resistant. He has more to show her.
My grip lessens off his neck and my legs once chilled now feel soothingly warm. Hesitantly my legs loosen  from his torso. I am taking my time to savor what I have experienced. I am attempting  to understand this feeling of completeness.  A feeling of desire with the fulfillment of being needed. He is bucking to keep me resting on him. but I slide off. I glide my hands along his mane. The mane that was once weathered, now full and flowing.  His coldness replaced with warmth from his heart racing uncontrollably. No other woman has ridden him with such passion and pureness. No other has made him feel so alive and free.
.      As I glance at my body his chips of faded paint have covered me the way moss grows along bark.  The sun radiates his new painted body. His posture has become standing tall with confidence as if he were a show horse. I stand there looking at him and mutter
“Damn he is beautiful”.
I release his mane and kiss the top of the bridge of his nose.  I stare into his eyes and see the gratitude he has for me.  I walk away but my feet feel like concrete blocks. I don’t want to leave him. My body is aching with the yearning for another ride.  l feel his glare on back like a laser beam burning into my heart.  I turn around for a last glance and see him walking towards me. No pole attached no dull paint. Four legs and a confident stance. He lowers his head down and nudges my body. I do not understand what he wants. He sits his body down on the platform to have me mount him. I look at him and say,
“Now you are free, you need to gallop in to the wild, and be the animal you are. You cannot be restrained. ‘
Despairingly so he understood. To my surprise though, My Carousel Horse comes to me. He habitats in the wild and comes to my reality when he needs a reminder of a true connection. When  I hear the accordion music playing I instantly turn my head  and he is there offering me a ride. I treasure each one we have together.