Ode to Indy: 4-21-2003 – 11-29-2023

Ode to Indy: 4-21-2003 – 11-29-2023

Ode to Indy: 4-21-2003 – 11-29-2023

In 1934, Clare Harner wrote the original poem, “Immortality“. It was written after the sudden death of her brother. The poem has since been recited, written into songs and written into movies.

To better fit my Indy’s tribute I’m creating for her by the barn in her favorite place, I rewrote it.

There are still many moments of reflection and sorrow as time passes and moments become lighter. But, each day that passes, brings my smiles more often and my tears lessen. Rain, Cimarron the pups and our pixie-bob Rio are also nice distractions from feeling sadness at times.

Since Indy’s passing, a friend has given me an unbelievable gift. I’ll share this soon, but for now, I continue to celebrate this little mare’s love. There are times when I feel I have not given myself enough time to grieve. Nevertheless, I will continue to draw strength from her and continue to work with horses.

Where Hooves Once Danced

In the meadows where hooves once danced so free,
Beneath the sky, my dear Indy rests with me.
I do not stand at Her stable and weep,
For in the gentle winds, her spirit shall sweep.

She is not confined to that earthly bed,
Not in eternal slumber, but vividly spread.
She is the echo of a thousand winds’ embrace,
The whispered tales of our joy and grace.

In the shimmering dew on a morning’s grace,
She is the diamond gleam, a poignant trace.
A symphony in the sunlight on golden grain,
She lingers in the soft whispers of the autumn rain.

When dawn unveils its tender blush,
Feel the swift uplifting rush,
Of memories galloping in circles wide,
As quiet birds in flight, side by side.

Under the canvas of the night,
She becomes the soft stars, gleaming bright.
I do not stand by her empty stall and cry,
For, in spirit, dear Indy, will never say goodbye.

In every rustle of leaves and breath of air,
Her presence, a testament, beyond compare.
Though tragedy took her from our side,
In the realms of memory, She will abide.

We let the tears be balm for the soul,
As reminiscence and passion gently stroll.
For Indy lives on, not in death’s cold sigh,
But in the love that will never die.

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