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Aches and Aspen

I told her - your stories make my heart ache, but she just keeps them coming. If it’s aching it’s still alive, she answers.     Ache - to have a continuous dull pain, often used in combination: an aching heart, a sad ballad, someone left behind. I didn’t want to be alive like that, I want respite - the fortitude of solitude,   stepping out of combination. Like the aspen with rootlets knitted to kin underground, boasting to sun and moon- here I am!        She contends, there is no alone, there is no away — it’s all here, all together - the rivers that artery the land, the quanta pixelating space.     The ache - elixir, growing pains. Her stories are growing pains. I would have said that too, she spouts, but you wouldn’t have believed me.   I prefer to believe in reciprocity -  the mutual exchange of privilege between faithful sovereigns - that’s our paradox . Sovereign and bound.         Sometimes, I wish she could be the silent lioness within me. A familiar — sti…

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