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In Memory of Caballo Blanco

Run close to the mountains Stay a heartbeat away Cover the low moon with your wings And walk tomorrow’s miles today

Watch the sun race the sky And know you’ll pass her once again When time frees your soul and you find the fabled trail that doesn’t end

Dust ascends on the horizon A deep, rumbling thunder without rain The sound of rampant hearts, a legion Earthly, feral and unconstrained

The search will end as it began A trail of footprints, a bird and a feather When a white horse dies on a sandy road All wild hearts mourn together

Poem by Trisha Reeves



The Peaceful Warrior | My Apache White Eyes

My Apache White Eyesby Maria Walton

He ran like a phantom, unseen with pride, humility, power and spirit; understanding the caprice of the unseen.

With each footstep, sharing blessings of a beautiful path, the best land on earth, holding sacred the gifts of wisdom, strength, generosity, love of nature, the ability to endure.

The sunset, the sunrise, whispers of the wind, and blazoned canyon fires, all fueled this peaceful journey into the land of the unknown.

Then one day, he pierced her heart, as if he'd ridden upon her with a lance. In that magical moment, her joyful spirit, once again, began to dance. His tender whispers, healing her brave heart.

He moved from mystery into mystery, in the unfathomable way of the world. She realized that soon, she must let him go. Yet, her love remains true, as warmth cradles his gentle soul.

A Butterfly understands his need to fly free.

There can be no other after him. She remembers him alone, this man from a distant land. She kept him in her heart, like an empty cave, haunted by faint echoes, as he calls her name, his spirit finally at peace, no longer in pain.

With a gentle kiss, in blessings of love, she comforts his soul with a selfish, hopeless wish, he would return to awaken the sadness that’s crushing, suffocating her weakened heart.

Who can say what trace, what secret thoughts shape her spirit in the space he left behind? In her prayers, he speaks to her.

Dreams do come true. The gifts of love and life, everlasting.

She remembers him alone. And in this manner, he rests now in solitude, once again set apart, wondering, dreaming, loving with reverence.

By Maria Walton



Farewell to you Micah | A Tribute Poem

by Natasha Vizcarra Two friends found him in a beautiful place His feet still in the burbling stream His water bottle, half full The following day he was carried out by friends A white horse named "Tequila" leading the way There is no better way for a trail runner To cross the finish line than this Farewell to you Micah, White Horse of the Copper Canyons See you out there someday, out on the trail Beyond my own finish line Save some tequila for me And one of those white MASLOCOS t-shirts



Dearest Micah | A Tribute

by Deborah Hirsch Here I am again, stepping back from the details and looking for the big picture. In front of me is the immediate image of you by a stream, without breath or pulse, and the knowledge that I will never see you again. When Maria told me of this, I couldn't see anything for all the crying. Now, reading what people have been writing about you, the picture forming is something so inspiring. I want you to know what I see, Micah.

I'm sorry, its not you as the mythic hero. Its not even you, the iconoclast. To begin with, its you sitting on a couch last summer in Boulder, gently talking with my son and I about your your hopes for CCUM, your feelings about what all of us involved in Norawas de Raramuri were doing, and speaking of each with a love and calm that I had never before witnessed in our conversations. Some kind of peace had grown inside of you. Some kind of love had taken strong root.

What is left now? Part myth, part legacy, its the legacy that interests me, and I think that is what would most interest you too. Your memory is not served by mythologizing. Heroes are larger than life, made more perfect in the public mind than they ever could have been. With those of us who live changed by how you've inspired us, you may have a true legacy.

You, Micah, are a hero, not because of how great you were, but because of how human you were, and yet you accomplished so very much. I have never known anyone who suffered more and few who suffered as much. However imperfect, you held yourself and others to a vision, an honest, non-materialistic vision. You did so in different ways: sometimes maddeningly, as a single-minded iconoclast, and sometimes so lovingly, with huge compassion and real wisdom.

So, here is what I see, stepping back from the crisis of your death: I see the miracle of thousands of people from around the globe all responding to your very simple message and the experiences you offered them. Especially, I see the miracle of these thousands of people feeling a bond with each other--not only with you--because of shared experience. We are a kind of spiritual family that has no doctrine and no borders. This is true synergy, it is a shared experience that, as a whole, has evolved into a state of beauty and energy much greater than the sum of its parts. You know you did not, could not, create this alone. You would smile, pleased with how people have created this with you.

All who were changed by the experience of CCUM are exchanging a sense of common loss and mutual warmth. Micah, you would be so glad! I remember how you put it in 2007, on the plaza of Urique on a night before the race: "Out there, they are making war, while we are here making peace." My wish is that we continue to do just that. Every one of us should carry your legacy forward by holding each other in respect and esteem, in warmth, as we find ways to amplify the spirit of korima in every way we can--especially for the benefit of our friends in Las Barrancas.

Thank you, Micah. It is my deepest intention to amplify your legacy, much more than to amplify your myth. It is with what you valued most, love--respect--beauty--that I intend to live the rest of my life. So many of us will do so because you touched us. You, who too rarely encountered these qualities in your own life, but who showed so many of us that we could place them before all else. This is what makes you a hero to me. And I am deeply grateful to all of those, and you know who you are, who gave Micah love and peace in the last years of his life.