Below is a nice cowboy poem from one of our readers. It makes me sad and wistful, because I learned of the death of pro surfer Andy Irons today. He was just 32 with a beautiful wife, who's pregnant with his son. (He died alone in a Texas hotel room of complications from dengue fever—and possibly pain killers and sleeping pills).
I guess I've always secretly dreamed of being a surfer, and Andy's meteoric career was an inspiration. This poem about a cowboy that never was makes me think of Andy and the father he'll never be. God bless.
Take me out to the edge of creation
Where the land and the rivers are wild
Let me see forever and…then some
To the place where God rested and smiled.
Show peaks that reach to the top of the world
Turning pink as they greet the new day
Help me feel the way that it certainly was
When the West was “The West” as they say.
Place me inside of the dust clouds
At the head of the great long horn herd
Astride a mustang just one step ahead
When “stampede” was the echoing word.
Hand me the letters all written in love
As I ride from St. Joe to the West
Delivered come hell, or high water
The Pony Rider who never knew rest.
Let me throw in my lot with the miners
where manhood was tested ten fold
bacon and beans was the meal of the day
just one in a thousand found gold.
I was born when the glory was over
with history all written and won
just thinking aloud how it all must have been
in the West when creation begun.
May my ghost haunt the shadows at twilight
When my days in the West are all done.
Let my soul rest not far from the Western Star
Then I’ll always and ever be young.
By Marvin Hass