I want to talk about Boni,
the big-hearted, strong-willed mother of two
and sensible horse-woman
bravely standing tall through all the threats
of bankruptcy and theft
her youngest son threw at her,
handling everything on her own,
perfecting her property
and performance horses with pride.

I want to talk about a place I loved,
My home away from home
where my horses were born that turned into
broken promises and ruined dreams,
deeming friends as enemies.

I want to talk about all the happy little kids,
who don’t see how it really is.
Never believing they would end up like me,
hating a place you used to love
and live for in hopes of being
part of a family,
only to fall apart,
because passive-aggressive
pointless drama, and
fake rumors relentlessly
destroy all relationships.

I want to talk about the lack of money
making you completely vulnerable to the new instructors every demand,
the years of endless, overworked hours spent
doing farm chores not always in return for
my horses’ room and board,
beckoning the voice of rejection
and repulsion to speak,
further feeding the fire of manipulation making cooperation
unachievable.

I want to talk about “starting over” for the fourth time,
tying the pieces of our dysfunctional family back together by
treating us better for a short while,
working together to make things happen how
they always used to,
helping each other at shows and
encouraging camaraderie among everyone,
then cutting the loose strings of another new start,
stopping the little bit of progress we made,
again.

I want to talk about the lies,
leaking through the thin layer of trust still left.
The in one ear, out the other method of
mending the broken family bonds,
further forcing us all apart.

I want to talk about the truth,
hiding under all the insecurities and false hopes of
what the new “trainer” thinks we have become.
After Boni died,
the locket of nonsense
latched itself onto the farm,
never to be opened again.
Ever since then,
my home away from home,
is not the same place I used to love.