Wild horses (Introduction)


Wild horses Introduction
A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
A writer and a painter discussing life and things.

Wild horses Introduction

 

It was a perfect late Spring night in Florence, Italy. The sky was clear and the moon was rising slowly lighting-up the city of Florence. The city was alive and well. The young people were enjoying the warm night, already seeking some strong drink and some entertainment. An old man and a middle age woman sat drinking the Italian wines at a corner café. The man Johnnie, an USA citizen, was a self-imposed poet and writer. The woman Brigitte, a German citizen, was a famous painter and a performer. They loved Florence. They have been meeting here every Spring for 30 years.

Brigitte asked Johnnie. We have return to Florence for 30 years and you never answer my questions? He smiled and he told her. My dear friend, you have asked a thousand questions. What is the question today? Johnnie was in his late fifties and Brigitte was nearly fifty. Brigitte was still a German beauty. Long blond hair and eyes of ocean blue and she was always asking questions to make him speak. Johnnie was still in good health and his hair dark brown still grey less and short.. His face showed his age.

She laughed at his words and she asked him. You rarely talk of God and sometime you speak of God. Like he is a friend. You hold no real belief in anything and your contrary actions have always confused me. He raised his glass of the sweet red wine and he drank the whole glass very quickly. He watched the people wandering the ancient city and he looked at her. He told her.

I have befriended God and he had saved me often. I was the soldier in the foxhole. Dangerous and epic life made me learn. We are not alone. This world is amazing and we cannot control time and we decide our place. Can be a soldier, a savior or a demon? She held silence for a few minutes and she asked. Do you believe with death near. We seek God or does he find us? He stood-up and waved in hands into a circle and he sat down. He told her. Life is fair. All things will fall into proper place. Like a circle. Old earth moved in a dance of the circle. So do we. I befriended you thirty years ago when I was at my worst. I was trying to drink myself to death and you came to me. I remember you held my hands and you told me. You have an ancient face. The lines already hard and turn to stone. I need to paint your face. I went to your small apartment and you painted my face. I remember we talks little. You were very beautiful and my heart was dead. I lost my first true love and I was cold and seeking silence.

She smiled and she laughed at his words. I remember those days. We laid together in a bed for nine months. We kissed and talked only. You treated me like a goddess. I wanted you and you told me often. Better to love the kiss, the embrace and ensure. Love is sweet, not demanding.

He reached over and he took her hands. He whispered. I believe God is in everything. The sun, the moon, the sea and the great mountains. Carved Earth to perfection by a generous God. I look at you, to be a miracle . We never allow sex to destroy how we look at each other. You have the face of an angel, a heart of gold. Your hands can create great paintings that will last forever. You have great gifts. We have good health and you and I. In the city of the great Gods. We are blessed my dear Brigitte.
John Castellenas/Coyote

 

 

 

© 2018 Coyote Poetry