graceandgrit

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Of Grace and Grit

Since the day of his birth, a twine around his girth he was meant to buck,
Almost a ton of mass gives him style and class with a force of a semi truck.
Within his eye is knowledge and try of a thousand rides before,
Within his heart the major part, the beat of acrobatic war.
And beside him now, seemed a joke somehow, a lad not a tenth of his size,
Who would boldly sit with determined grit, no intimidation in his eyes
upon this bulls back. Was there a lack of sense to be had?
Or does he look fear in the face to ratify some case to become more than a lad?
He is taking a road many before him has strode with a stubborn hardy will,
A yearning deep within, beckoning him in, to face mortality yet still
He is quiet and reserved, not altering his nerve, he came here to ride,
With a friend trusted to the core who helps balance the score standing by his side.

The tension is strong the wait not long for he is next in line.
He wraps his glove and with a glance above it is now his time.
He removes his hat from where he is at, no ego to be played,
Knelt and bowed his head silent words were said as he quietly prayed.
The words he spoke no silence was broke mere whispers from the heart and soul,
From one man to one God they silently trod where bigger men fear to go.

Then he stepped astride this mass of hoof and hide. Like in life he rides alone.
The future untold as he grabs a hold of all that he has known.
Only his arm will tether these two athletes together, no friendship to be made.
But the respect between mass and lean are challenged and rightfully paid.
Pulling tight his strap taking his wrap, sitting balanced and deep.
Few words are said with a nod of his head, the bull takes a mighty leap
And jumps out of the gate with power and hate blazened on his face,
He has the count of eight to set the record straight and put this cowboy in his place.
With a jumping surge this bull wanting to purge this weight from his massive back
He twists and strains he won't refrain and whips him like a burlap sack.

Poetry in motion with passion and devotion one arm connects to two
He rocks to and fro with the beat of his foe, the plan to follow through.
The cowboys chin to his chest his feet did the rest to rake rattle and roll,
But the force and the jar of each impact by far took a mighty toll
His riggin began to slip he tried to retain his grip and rode one second more.
When he hit the ground his legs he found to retreat the arena floor.
The buzzer then rang as he sprang to the fence for the bull to pass by,
Knowing the life that we live with the take and the give, we always face another try.
As he walked away with knowledge that day there was a whisper that will transcend,
a boy to a man for with tough yet gentle hand he touched his hat as he said "Amen."

© A. K. Moss

My youngest son riding bulls