The Waterfall announces a deep loud roar
A desire to be heard
Each person’s life holds deep pain
And as the years go by
Time takes hold of the body soul and mind
Wanting again that moment of life where it began
For the beginning is as the end
At birth a loud cry for life and
At the end a silent tear
~ Gemini Joe ~
M
y family lived across the street from the Renkins Milk Company. Years ago, there was horse and wagon delivery. They had a big stable with all kinds of horses. I used to like that because I loved horses. Next door to our house, in the back of the alleyway, there was a blacksmith. Old man Mike, we called him. He was a big burly Italian who shoed all the horses for the Renkins Company. He had yellow teeth because he smoked guinea stinkers. That’s what we called those cigars because they smelled like old, dirty feet.
Every day I saw him taking a horse and walking it across the street to his shop. I was only five years old and very interested, so I hung around there.
Mike said, “Hey little fella.” He clenched his teeth around a cigar and slipped a leather apron over his clothes. He heated up the horseshoes and sized up how much he had to cut. It was very hot. He dipped it in water and the shop filled with steam. How smoky and sticky it was. Mike put the metal on the horse’s hoof and picked up a hammer. He banged away on his anvil to fit the horse. It didn’t hurt the horse, because it is like nails on your fingers, only thicker.
I noticed that old Mike had a steady beat and would strike the horseshoe at a certain rhythm. Dot, dota, dot, dot…dot, dot.
By banging first on the anvil and then striking the horseshoe, he maybe had a better aim at it. I called it The Song of the Anvil.
Of course, everyone used that beat to knock on doors. It was a stupid little thing, but I noticed stuff like that.
Anyway, while Mike hammered the horseshoe nails into her hoof, I picked up a piece of apple lying on the hay and fed it to the horse. I stood on the fence looking deep into her brown eyes. The horse twitched and shuffled as if she wanted to come to me.
“Stand still, stupid, or I’ll make glue out of you!” Mike yelled and punched the horse in her head. Me and the horse were startled, but Mike laughed.
“Stay still, dammit!” He raised his hand again.
“Don’t hit her!” I shouted.
The look in Mike’s eyes scared me and I knew that I couldn’t save the mare, so I jumped down from the fence and ran home. Maybe I was too soft, but I couldn’t bear to see cruelty.
Before I went inside my apartment, I wiped my eyes and nose on my sleeve, knowing if my brothers saw weakness, I might suffer the same fate as the horse.
