Barbaro, Even now, wih you melting away from this world, you are my object of hope. I hold your gallant head in my lap and peer into your dark brown eyes. I rub your soft, beautiful neck. Even in death, you are great. You are fantastic, epic, even miraculous. When I first saw you, you were a two year old. No one knew who you were, just another improbable Derby hopeful. I don’t know what it was in that moment that I saw you galloping down the turf, but I liked it. In that moment, I knew you would win every race there was to win. No one would even come close. When the Run for the Roses finally came, you were my favorite. I would jump up and down on my couch chanting, “Let’s go Barbaro!” And to this day, I don’t ever remember seeing something so beautiful as the sight of your flame-colored coat, completely unsplattered by mud, leading the other horses into the stretch. Your chest, powering your legs back and forth. Your head, reaching for the finish. Your nostrils drinking the wind like water. Your eyes on nothing but the prize. I call that moment, where it seems that every muscle in your body is flexed, “The Jubilee.” For the next two weeks, I went around screaming to anyone who would listen that you would win everything. The first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed. The first undefeated Triple Crown winner since Seattle Slew. To me, you were invincible. On Preakness Saturday, I was too excied. I would have the privelidge of seeing the Great Horse run once again. I think everyone that day was taken aback by how great you were. The track was yours and you strode over it like the champion you were. You had never looked beter. You were so eager to go that everyone else wanted to go run beside you. That is how I remember you, those three moments in time where your beauty, strength, and greatness surpassed that of all others. I don’t remember when you got hurt when you were taken into surgery. I remember your impecible flawlessness. In those months you were in the hospital, I knew you would get better. You were too great not too. When the harsh reality of the situation finally sank in, I realized it was selfish of me to want to keep you here. You can’t keep a wild bird caged, nor can an untamed spirit be broken. You were not meant to to dwell here on Earth. You were meant to walk the clouds, among angels. We on Earth were graced with your brief presence. I can only imagine you entrance into Heaven. Secretariat, Man O’ War, Seattle Slew, Seabiscuit, and all the other great horses of racing all looking over their shoulders at you saying, “C’mon, you ready to run or what?” The thunder in every storm will be your hoofbeats. You’ll be set free from the mortal flaws and be allowed to run forever. You’ll be in a better place now. Don’t regret leaving us behind. It’s batter this way. Thank you for being with us at all. You are the greatest, You are invincible. Good bye, Barbaro. We love you. Let your hooves fly forever. Barbaro, my dear Barbaro its been 6 years since you were put down. I think about you all the time. It’s only been six years, Old friend. I visited your grave last year. I read you a poem that I wrote. This year I wanted to visit you, but I couldn’t. Barbaro, my old friend, I love you.
areudirty
jbbartram-illu
izzy806
dailybridgerton
baratheonpilled
stormborns
gummygunk
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annaxmalina
