A Hard Rain
Something about a hard rain
when it comes down
through trees to the ground
taking cover like people do
just in time and just enough
travels through hair- over noses
lovers embrace- strangers watch
quiet kisses- moments in time
washes over- turns into streams
quenches thirst- starts fires
scattered clouds- here for all time
Something about a hard rain
when it comes down, I cannot complain
- © E, 2008
A valley lay before me at the mouth of large hill in the Wichita Mountains near the Red River. Loudly I heard a proud Indian brave roar at the sky, "I am Kohiaca (Ko-we-a-ka), future chief warrior of the great Taovaya people that have been forced to blend into the Wichita tribes by our white fathers. I am the oldest son in a great line of chiefs and named by our white fathers as Lookout".
This was new land his people roam and their Spanish brother’s called Tejas. A new place was part of the south east regions and covered with lush green grass, tall as summer wheat, but the red man did not like it as much as the lush hunting grounds of the north. Afternoon winds began to blow back and forth across the landscape. Kohiaca was waiting for signs of wild horses running out through the pass that lay before him. The ground would feel like a hundred boulders falling from the hill sides and like thunder in the darkest autumn night.
Sitting still upon a small cliff waiting for a chance to capture a mustang, his right of passage into man hood. All young braves are required to capture one of these horses for his own; tame it, paint it with markings and then be allowed to ride proudly along side there father and brothers on hunting parties and into great battles.
Pressing his ear down to the ground and he knows that they are coming. A great wind rose up and dust began to cloud the opening below his feet. There were many horses and one could even take more if so desired. The more horses a man owned the higher seat among the elders.
This warrior yells out to the grandfathers and all the spirits that had been here before and declared his is ready. Kohiaca ran and jumped from the small cliff and landed in clearing a few feet from where the horses had come out. Catching a glimpse of a three year old stead he began the chase. The pony was small but his bronze color was like that of at rising fire at sunset and he held his face up high like that of a proud warrior. Kohiaca set the pace and ran with them. The young braves feet carried him closer to the bronze male. Soon it occurred to him that the pony was not running with most of the others. He was holding back, but yet still part of the group; as if he was being punished and was not allowed to be closer.
Kohiaca moved in, looked into his eyes and realized that he was soon to become the dominate male and this too was part of his ritual into adulthood. He could hear the horse breathing, see it turn to a misty smoke in the early morning air. The roar of the other horse’s feet on the rocky ground shook the entire pass. Feeling strong and becoming one of them was part of the ritual so he had to stay focused. "I had to take one soon" he thought, "and this would be hard to return to the village in shame". Becoming hesitant Kohiaca caught the glimpse of another pony. As he reached out to grab its mane Kohiaca began to throw himself over the horses back, he lost his balance. Kohiacas body flew over the top and landed onto the cold hard ground. As his body scratched and bleeding he began to roll just barely and only feet away from the hooves of the entire heard. The horses began to turn and head back into the pass. The bronze stead had proved himself and took the lead as they disappeared into the hills.
Out of the corner of Kohiaca eyes he caught a glimpse of a young wolf watching from one of the hill top. He too soon turned and disappeared over the rocks. Once again I found myself alone in this strange place and now knew what had to be done…
This story is about a young man who survives tragedy, leaves home at seventeen, and finds himself in a small town off the Red River in Texas. He will find love, rides a metal horse, and himself on the dusty roads of life... This idea came to me when I wondered what would have happened to my son if I had left when his sister passed away...would he have proved himself like my character in the story, or would he have chosen a different another path...