Blue Horse

We had seen the bold and blue horse
in my dream; its strong body,
like a horse on the prairie,
like a cowboy's horse.
It could fight, it could run.

In our hearts,
we once rode a blue horse
in our dreams,
galloping in the land of freedom.

Some pain was like a lean horse,
running fast for a moment before collapsing.

Because my sister and I—

our memories didn’t fade.
There was some joy in them,
fresh as the blue horse.

Sometimes we lacked the courage
to carry ourselves far enough to escape our family—
a home filled with liquor bottles.
Father’s face was red,
quarreling and fighting.

Illness took you away;
you never broke free from the cage.
The funeral flowers mirrored
your snow-white skin—
it was your grand festival.

In death, you become weightless.
Death carries you on a blue horse
to a place of freedom.