A Snippet From The Road To Healing Project

Leading a horse to water.

So for my birthday this week, I requested to ride Sterling. I didn’t get much time, because again, I am not very time oriented. I tried to pull off normal during my session. It didn’t last long. I didn’t open up much, but Sterling did react to my high anxiety the moment I stepped into the arena with him. My horse trainer spoke up about it.

Anxiety plays in a number of events in my life right now. I am permanently done with the army life, therefore a second try to a transition to civilian life. I am moving to a city that’s four times bigger than my present city, and I am finally figuring out my purpose in life after long adjustments in my personal life.

When stress is high in my life, the nightmares return and I become more restless than I already am. Not the war flashback nightmares, they only come so often. My nightmares are more symbolic and line up with my native spirituality whether it involves animals or natural disasters. Most commonly, tornadoes. This past week I was introduced to rattlesnakes and other venomous snakes. I think I have some research to do to find the meaning.

Anyways, back to my therapy session. The horse trainer was concerned. She warned me that if she felt tension and no comfort in Sterling, I’d have to get off right away. It was a chance I would take just to be on him. I trusted him and he trusted me. Sterling knew what to do though with my condition, before and after I was on his back. Sterling relaxed while I was grooming him and prepping. I kept hugging him to feel him breathe and sync with his calmness. Everything went smoothly regardless of having a new intern with us and my high anxiety issues for the day.

It was a bummer he doesn’t do bareback like Joseph does, but it felt good to be riding nonetheless. Bareback is how I also prefer. You have a better connection with the horse, feeling skin on skin. It’s the spirituality in me that allows me to feel the spirit/humanity in animals, let alone horses. Not everyone has the gift, but from day one, my therapist and my first horse trainer asked if I was a horse whisper. I guess the gypsy soul in me links with the spirit of a horse.

The Road To Healing (Poetry)

Be the change, don’t wish for it.

I hear it over and over again.
I do what I can, when I can.
Damn, I try.
Finding my purpose in life.
Not an easy pathway,
But I think I’ve found the light.
A new day passes.
The end of the tunnel expands.
The sun rays, I feel on my skin.
Clouds creep from the distance,
Threatening the moment.
I throw out the umbrella; let the storm come.
I’m at the finish line, I’m done running.
Fists up, ready for what may come.
A passive lover turned aggressive fighter.
Wanting all that I’ve earned,
Accepting the gifts I’ve been given,
Using them to make for a better tomorrow.
The road to healing is turning its course.
Arise from the mercy of the knees,
Re-baptized by the Earthly rains.
2015 Copyright @ H.M. Gautsch
All Rights Reserved.

Fallen Angel Part III

Death surrounds the fallen angel; a plague has spread through the hearts of the loved ones she once held dearly within her soul. Hades’ reindeer games continues to drain the powers of the angel’s redemption, however she presses forward with faith of finding her place.

Day by day, illusions become the truths of reality. Sadness overcomes emotions, as though, tears remain dry from the weathered skin. Little knowledge came to pass when Athena had thrown this quest to the angel. Little was revealed how long it would take the angel to find her way into this corrupted hallucination to find the purified justice that the blind has not forthwith.

As the angel presses on to a new destination, she leaves behind value that was inherited during her presence with the seasonal beings. Marching barefoot along the black top, as she watches her footing for the cracks created by the underground world slowly lifting itself to Midgard. Below are wicked laughter’s of Hell mocking her every word and movement to the next chapter in her journey. The continuation brings irritability to the angel’s emotions and fills her heart with anger.

(to be continued…)

Color-Blind (Poetry)

Late nights are the best nights to sort out my membrane,
Thoughts running through my head like a midnight train.
Thanks to the media circus and everyone’s opinions.
Of what’s right and what’s wrong.
See, I grew up being color blind,
So I don’t understand these racist remarks.
I never understood the difference between the shades of skin.
Black, copper, or white. 
See, I grew up in a melting pot of cousins, from different generations.
I’m trying to explain this while sitting in a coffee shop,
Contemplating these rhymes, as I jam out to my second cousin,
A biracial artist that exposes conflicts that are unfurled, personal or interracial.
He’s finding himself in the Hip-Hop world,
Damn right, I’m proud of my own blood,
Addressing the audience his visions, his dreams, his lyrical flood,
A creative outlet to get rid of the inner mud. 
Welcome to my world, my color-blind world.
Multitasking, welcome to my revolting mind.
I go back to my diverse family and now thinking of my first cousin,  
She never goes short on her Native American pride.
I even have my own personal aboriginal beliefs and spirit deep within my vibes,
Bona fide. 
An ex of mine was part of the Northern Cheyenne tribe,
I was adopted by the teachings and life.
Went by the name of “Too Tall” due to my height.
Bottom line, no matter what color is our exteriors,
We still all bleed red within ourselves.
We all shed the same tears,
Our genetics go beyond thousands of years,
Find the truth in these words, instead of fears.
I’m a black sheep, I was never made to tell you what you want to hear.
And I won’t apologize for the topics you need to hear.
We aren’t just connected through our families, but also our peers.
Don’t be afraid to change the teachings of your scholars.
Find your x-ray super powers and surpass the skin color. 
Welcome to my world, my color-blind world.
©H.M. Gautsch

Harlot (Poetry)


Work over play.
Work over romance.
That’s my life, it’s my only chance.
I guess I am a harlot in the game of love.
No sex needed, just my wicked tongue is enough.
All it takes is one or two dates,
And they keep coming like it’s a cattle call.
Someday I’ll get it all right.
Until then, my heart remains uptight.
I fear of being to mummified with my PTSD,
I can’t even say, “I love you” to the ones that are close to me.
I guess I successfully raised my heart from my sleeve.
It’ll take more than a week to let it proceed.
I guess it’s just meant to be, so let me be.
It is what it is I guess,
But I’d rather speak the truth than sugar coat the shit.
I got to follow my heart, the chemistry.
I’d rather be a best friend, not a queen.
Strong minded as I reveal a flaw,
I’d rather work for my own grind,
And not just be handed over gift and trips.
It’s my dreams and my opportunities I need to find,
Even if it’s on my own.
I need a companionship, not a money bind.
I’m taking the high road,
Even though people like to take my name into dirt.
Characters reveal themselves,
And you’re revealing you’re just another toad.
I know what I want,
It’s not someone with a beast mode.
Unless you’re Clay Matthews in the running show.
Maybe you should go check yourself,
You sound a bit bi-polar.
If this poem is too high of a standard,
So be it, find someone else to pander.  
 2015 ©H.M. Gautsch