Longeing

At parents' weekend, we gather
to watch a demonstration—
buttermilk dun circles the pen
walking or trotting on a longe 
line held by the horse handler.
Coconino sandstone behind us, 
mottled clouds
pierced by hawk flight.
 
The horse handler asks 
What are we doing? Why 
are we here? He is teaching 
us how horses and girls should be
handled. These thirty 
girls—with mood disorders,
addictions, suicidal ideations
here, in Arizona, at Montezuma—
so named because the locals
believed Aztecs built 
the ancient cliff dwellings.
 
Yet the girls feel as far 
from home as the Aztecs
from the First People,
and we parents feel 
as ignorant 
as the locals who named
the place.  We feel
bewildered
watching the horse handler
running and running
the buttermilk dun
who keeps jerking away her head.