A lonely foal
struggling for composure
its coat still clinging dirt
wounds still healing from barbed wire
that once wrapped its frame.
Legs fold and buckle-
failing
at this first weight.
Its eyes are still misty with fear
still adjusting to the quiet darkness
stretching before its face.

A vast and impending field
now spreading beneath its hooves
Scars covering the terrain,
filthy, wet sludge,
unforgiving rough edges,
deceptive pits

The looming clouds
they watch silently
among the carpet of puddles
Leaving no fall unseen,
no failure forgotten.

Now this foal must walk.