She stands beside the horse.
Neither pulls away.

The tipi holds the night
the way a chest holds breath.

Moonlight rests on their backs—
not to claim,
only to witness.

The horse lowers its head.
Trust is quiet.

The woman listens
with her whole body.
This is how teachings pass.

Ancestors move
through muscle,
through stillness,
through the space between touch and release.

Protection is not force.
It is presence.

Freedom is walking together
without a rope,
under the same sky,
answering to the earth alone.

Native Intellect