©Maree Suira
Most horses have gone, from the Plains of Kosciuszko.
After years of trapping, not many brumbies remain.
I was leaving for the Plains, I would go by car
then trek the brumby trails I remember by heart
loaded up, for no horses are allowed in
Kosciuszko National Park.
What am I doing here? I said to myself,
cranky and tired after walking all day.
From the corner of my eye
I spied a most beautiful blue coloured shard
as I picked it up, I saw many others
pink, green, silver, purple, yellow and gold
gosh! They were all over the place.
Here’s a sack I heard a voice say,
as I spun around there stood an old man,
with silver hair to his shoulders and a beard to his knees.
Child: said he, I would be ever so grateful
if you picked up every shard, no matter how small it maybe.
After I’ve had my coffee and something to eat, said I.
How many shards have I collected?
The bag never seems to get heavy,
no matter how many shards I have put in.
As Dawn spread her fingers of orange-yellow light,
bringing morning with her, and a bright new day.
Thank you, my child, the old man said, as he took the sack from me.
And as our hands touched ever so lightly, I swear: just for a second
the most magnificent horse stood there.
All night you have been collecting the broken hearts of brumbies
who lived here, a long, long time ago.
As my eyes filled with tears to overflowing, he softly said
Don’t weep for us.
Weep: my child for what you have forever lost.
Photo credit: Michelle J Photography
Nelle's journey 