for Ella
I can tell you, when your horse began to slip

she tried to pull you and herself back up.

But once she slid and lost her footing,

you both fell into the law of gravity

and came down hard upon the rain-soaked grass.
And in that moment, under the shockwaves

of a cold calm, I froze then ran with fear

as the freeze-frames reeled out —

you lying, pinned to the ground,

bearing the weight of your fallen mare.
At your side, I looked into the flared

whites of your eyes and calling your name,

watched your body tremble then jolt into a fit.

My heart sunk with a despairing dread,

a silent scream — Not you, not now.
I stayed kneeling, wondering whether

you were holding your breath or trying to breathe.

I scanned for bruising, broken bones, for blood.

I counted the seconds of your oblivion

and in a blind panic, even thought of prayer.
But when your body discharged the last volt

with a kick and you spoke, surfacing to air,

I cupped my hands beneath your head,

spelling out the calm and colour of words.

As I held you on this side of the line that balances 
love and loss with life and death, I pictured

your brother slipping by immeasurable degrees

through air and water, and thought of the ceaseless

eye of grief glaring at your mother and father.

By then, it didn’t matter that the stir 
and gaze of onlookers had crowded in

or that the spinning blades of a helicopter

throbbed overhead. What mattered was closer

to ground, and that the names of those you called

were there or on their way. Your horse,
limping, pressed her nose through a huddle

of bystanders, and with all the common

naturalness that comes from the animal bond

of love and need, tenderly bent to sniff

at your face, as you lay there in the wet
like a newborn foal. Walking back to the spot

later and seeing the muddy relief of your heel

near the hoof prints that lead toward your own,

I stood weighing up the cost, wondering

if it was luck or misfortune, or whether the law 
of averages was simply taking stock of its toll.

I thought of how lucky you were and despite

the risks, remembered your overriding words,

“It’s in my blood,” and how every bone

within you has been marrowed by what it loves.