Mom took my crossbow... I'm mad about that... What are you up to?
@marymouse4053
yuor what
imlook ing attge wat er adn think ing ofhow muchther e is:))
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Mom took my crossbow... I'm mad about that... What are you up to?
@marymouse4053
yuor what
imlook ing attge wat er adn think ing ofhow muchther e is:))
just look at this munchkin! 😭
First official post on the official Mouse Child tumblr
The Mouse Child dines on crumbs left by the bread board, takes baths in a teacup, and sleeps in my left shoe….
Washed in the River by Beckian Fritz Goldberg
Of course the woman with the mouse–child was famous, as grace is famous a rarity
at the end of suffering. She kept him in a nest in the dry bathtub and washed in the river.
And though only children were meant to believe this, I still believe this. The fate of the body is to confound
itself with everything. That's why in another tale, the fair sister opened her mouth and spoke rubies
and the plain sister, vipers and toads. Meanwhile the mother
of the gray thing bathed him in a teacup. Plucked him out and let him run along the shore
to the window. Where both of them were struck with longing— he behind the great glass, she behind the gray boy.
The second you see yourself in the suffering the story's over.
Ah, but Anaïs Nin disagrees.
"Stories are the only enchantment possible," she says, "for when we begin to see our suffering as a story, we are saved.”
Poem source: The Journal of Mythic Arts poetry archive