Horseshoe

Horseshoe

A piece 

of 

iron,

cold upon 

the old

door,

bent 

but 

beckoning

blessing,

made 

of flame 

and earth 

and water 

and breath 

and blacksmith 

sweat.

At its 

heart 

there is 

fire 

still,

and 

remembrance;

struck,

twisted,

hammered,

nailed

in place,

to keep 

the hoof

whole,

a barrier 

between

stone and

stallion;

sparking,

struck

upon 

the 

cobbles.

Would that

we were

all shod

as

secure,

submitting

in stillness 

to the

whispered

word

of the

Soul-smith

so

to keep us 

safe

upon 

our way,

but

we,

errant and 

wild,

resist the

healing

of the 

thrice 

hammered

nails

and 

instead

hang 

horseshoes

upon the 

doorways

praying 

for 

safe 

passage

between

the 

worlds.