Commentary and Philosophy Fiction posted March 7, 2016

This work has reached the exceptional level
an Irish haibun

The Blue Paint Stallion

by michaelcahill

I’d noticed the lack of color for some time. I’m a man who sees in color, angry red and passionate red. Yellow so light it lifts everything skyward, and purple you can taste until it stains the sides of your mouth. Green, both envious and regal, with splendor one must possess.

it’s dripping ripe
and I become its color
art appreciation


Mostly my world is blue. Sure, blue like the sky and even blue like the booties on a baby boy. But it’s the blue of the night the moment after the sun finally disappears, just before the darkness takes a firm grip, calling to me--that darkest blue so few see … that’s the blue I wish to share--I wish for another to see.
I roam the canyon in solitude and loneliness. I shouldn’t be lonely, I’ve been told. I’m not alone, so the story goes. Your heart desires and has what it desires, it should be clear to you. It isn’t.
I feel the ground shake. I know the feeling. I brace myself, even as I let the feeling take me over. Wild horses running. I regain myself a little, and the ground seems level again. It’s the Blue Paint Stallion coming straight for me in every shade of blue, the colors swirling in my mind as I try and take them all in. I marvel and feel no danger at the hooves flailing against the stars in the sky. I mount up in one movement, and we are off like the wind.

a train doesn’t think
it follows the tracks
they’ve no choice either
the forest is dark
fear is the better journey


I have no idea where we’re going, the paint stallion and I. I only know; I want to go. The sky breaks into pieces as we crash through it. The stars scatter without understanding. This is what my heart desires. They say I’m not alone. But they’ve never ridden on the Blue Paint Stallion.

blue so dark
as to appear black
not seeing me
not even


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