Both Saint and Sinner

The horse loved man, but
He bucked at my approach,
And I watched in horror
As the stallion rose and fell,
Rose and fell again,
And his cry was louder than I would have expected,
And I saw his teeth as he sputtered an echo of creation.

“I thought he was tame,” I said to my uncle
Who, with hand on my shoulder, kneeled to my ear,
“The sinner may be broken,
But the nature lies and waits.”

There is no beauty in my wildness.
Within my savage gaze there is no light.