I have stopped raging over one thing. And crying over another. I don’t know when. If it was gradual, or sudden. All grief is the same, now. Every loss, the same. This morning I ran my fingers through the twigs and soil at the base of my rosemary plant, looking for the body of the last ladybug to survive the winter, here, with me. And when I found it, I whispered, “I love you.”

Published by msdeer

I am an interdisciplinary artist, slightly incognito here.

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