Not much is told about what happened to me.
In Ireland horses used to be held up high,
Now too many suffer terribly and die.
The problems are not just Irish making,
It's a global issue human greed is baking.
The equine industry created the perfect storm,
Traditional thinking and riding is the norm.
Into the mix add marketing riding for pleasure,
Plus overbreeding with no thinking or measure.
Throw away culture, unethical quick fix training,
Broken we are seen as useless and draining.
I was broken then passed on for money,
Put in a box with a pony called Honey.
We travelled to England to a dealer to be sold,
The truth well hidden and never to be told.
Here Vicki and Steve found me in a stable,
Sold to them as a riding horse and very able.
Steve and Vicki knew I found riding hard,
So the best physiotherapist came to the yard.
The local vets, lots of visits and tests galore,
Then to Newmarket Equine Hospital a bore.
Home with diagnosis and I cannot be ridden,
My humans love me so much it's not hidden.
Non ridden is not a wasted or worthless horse,
We have so much love in our hearts of course.
Non ridden gifts are not taught at grass roots,
Mainstream equestrianism is all riding boots.
A world geared for riding it's hard to be heard,
Reality is marginalized and judged our word.
Out of the shaddows the dirty secret no more,
The non ridden equines are knocking the door.