"The Draft Horse's Prayer"

O Creator, maker of all that was, is and is yet to be,
Let my service be acceptable to my master and to thee.

Give my bones strength, and my muscles power,
So that I may faithfully serve my master, come Sun or come shower.

Give me wisdom, and grant it to me to understand
My master's wishes, so that I may carry out his every command.

If I am injured or fall ill, help me heal quickly,
For a draft horse cannot perform at his best if he is sickly.

I was made to pull plows and wagons, and in this I find contentment.
Even when I must work in the rain or snow, I harbor no resentment.

In exchange for my labors, at the end of each day,
I joyfully accept pats, praise, and of course hay.

In my stall, a bed of sweet straw waits for me each night
Where I will peacefully slumber before the morning light.

More than anything, however, it is my master's soothing words that I crave
I chuckle at those who pity me, for I am his beloved friend and partner, not his slave.

In the fields we toil together and sweat together, and often become quite smelly,
But our work puts food on his table and feed in my belly.

When my body wears out, and my old mind begins to wander,
Thoughts of my demise my master and I will both ponder.

When the time comes give him the strength to do what he must.
By ending my life he is not betraying my trust.

There is a time to be born, and a time to die.
But I do not worry; when my body returns to dust, my spirit will fly.

Comfort my master, and let him not sink into despair,
Because his beast of burden will no longer be there.

Standing in my stall, always ready and willing to pull
His plow that is so heavy, his wagon so full.

Whisper to his heart that death is but a release,
To a realm where my soul will find everlasting joy and peace.

With the spirits of other horses I shall gallop, whinny, and neigh,
In celestial pastures we shall play.

And when my master's Earthly labors are done,
I pray, allow me to make one last run.

To the farm where I did so gladly toil,
Drawing his wagon and plowing the soil.

Le me once again fondly nuzzle the cheek,
Of him whom I willingly served, obedient and meek.

With mane and tail flying, on my back I shall carry him away,
From this world of the flesh, with its pain, strife, and decay.

Like Pegasus of old, my thundering hooves shall carry us high
To that island of the blest beyond the sky

Where horses and their owners can at last speak to each other
As easily as a foal talks with its mother.

In the Elysian fields, let both horses and humans find
That it is part of your grand design

That each is incomplete without the other, horse and man.
We were meant to be together, for it is your divine plan.

After a spell in your kingdom, free from suffering or pain,
Perhaps my master and I will come back here again,

For I am a plow horse, you see, and my master farms the land.
I love the feel of dirt under my hooves; he, the feel of Earth in his hand.

Jason Wentworth

Click here for more