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Writer's pictureThe Grief House

Full (of want)



What if the ways through are also whole places? What if the ferrymen are also men,

with shoes under their beds and a changing assortment of teas in their cabinet? What if the horse moves around when you're off her?

What if my want is her own creature, her own landscape - My Want?

When she reaches for things she reaches with her hands and they are particular, they open in the way they open, she lures things with a dance that is her dance. I watch what she draws in, but what if I could turn and watch her move?

Could that feel like fulfillment? A kind satiety, full of potential?

I want to try

to give her my attention; know her - love her, maybe

for what she is.

Would she like that? Could I do it?

Let's find out.

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