Whoosh whoosh whoosh- the wind kisses my face,
Then lifts Barranca's silky mane to caress my fingers,
Flying across the green field, all my ghosts I race,
Of another time, another place and old gunslingers.

Astride my golden horse more graceful than a dancer,
I try to flee from the memories of a dirty border town,
Towards the mountains around my refound home-Lancer,
Every morning their peaks wear the sun like a shining crown.

The thundering cadence of Barranca's swift hooves,
Fails to carry me away from the thoughts of dark deeds,
They are trailing behind me like growling hungry wolves,
Cluttering my questioning mind like unwanted weeds.

I stop on the hilltop and listen to the wind,
It whispers to me, "He offers guidance and love,"
I realize I just need to be strong enough to bend,
Now warmth fills my heart-brought on the wings of a peace dove.