by Julene Waffle
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Ten minutes before the sun started its fiery path across the sky and dropped its first dewy light through my window, someone called the fire department at Tioga Downs, but it was already too late. Always Smooth, Better Call Saul (a cheeky bugger), Birdie Three, the angel of the barn, and more. Did he speak to them? Tell them why? There must have been a click of an igniter Did their ears prick at the sound? Did they stomp their feet? Da Boogie Man, Danzon Hanover who loved nipping at zippers and pulling strings. A barn intentionally set on fire. In an instant thirty horses were gone. Diamond Express whose eyes sparkled like her name. Fireside Tail arrived not twelve hours before; A yearling, her owner cried, I’m so sorry little angel. Their trainers and owners couldn't free them from the flames for the heat and the smoke and the burning. Hall It Off. It’s Rigged was a soft-hearted oaf. Karpathos was 22 and in his eleventh year of retirement. Lone Wolf American. Onlookers could hear them, kick and scream, then nothing but the crackle and break of flame and beam. And people crying in the dusk. Hot Shot Joe had a zest for life as big as the race inside him. Hunts Point—no one will know his full potential. Ideal Chance arrived two days before. He was in a new home amidst strangers. These horses were more than statistics, more than racers; They were promises made and promises kept. They were family. Market Mayhem. Mc Mach loved racing but might have loved his ears scratched more. My Delight was a lady’s man. Payara danced in her stall. Owners knew their lineages better than their own. Grant Me This adored her barn sister Silverhill Misty. Pineapple Sundae just finished six months of rehab for a knee injury. He was a race horse who didn’t have one last chance to run. Once they begged for treats. Others leaned eagerly out of their stalls to greet everyone who passed. Some napped twenty-two hours a day. Some knew their mind and let everyone know it too. Pocket Watch N. Prairie Dutches. Rough Montana Lane loved cuddles and kisses. SD Watch Me Now was grumpy, but would secretly give you kisses then pull faces behind your back. Blazin Mooss was sweet in the barn and crazy on the track. Slave Labour. Schlitz lived for hay bags and hugs. And a horse named Violence would sit in your lap if you let him. Buzzards R Flying was a wise old man at heart and his brother, didn't even have time to earn his name. Some were just learning. Some were veterans. They were nicknamed: Dandy Cheeks, Princess Di, Macaroni, Norman, Spongebob, Sassy Susan, Tank. They were gentle to the wheel, and named by little girls and boys who were their best friends. They made men cry at the track and made their owners throw themselves into the flames to save them.
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Julene Waffle, a graduate of Hartwick College and Binghamton University, is a teacher in rural NYS, an entrepreneur, a nature lover, a wife, a mother of three boys, two dogs, three cats, a bearded dragon, and, of course, she’s a writer. She finds pleasure in juggling these jobs while seeming like she has it all together.
Oh wow! This made me cry so hard. I can’t imagine how difficult is was to write this poem. I hope it finds its way into the hands of the horse owners
Touched to read this after dropping tears while listening to the newscasts of this tragedy-- this deliberate destruction, this lifetaking too frequent in our society.