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An oaf is an idiot these days, but it was originally the Old Norse alfr, a very specific kind of fairy dolt. When fairies spirited a child away for whatever shenanigans fairies do, conventional wisdom held that they had to leave another. This fairy child left behind, the alfr, was always worse than the original, and thus an alfr became an oaf.
you have been dreaming of me more often
than you could count, that you don’t prefer
your mother’s love to mine. Tell me how you
would never let me beg in order to get you to
stay. Tell me how you wanted to escape from
your own body. Tell me that you came freely,
that six little pomegranate seeds have never
tasted so good. Tell me how they felt, sliding
down the silk of your esophagus, resting at
home in the pit of your belly. Tell me that you
will always return, like rain. Like roses. Even
the earth misses you when you are gone. You
are crucial to both of us. It is a fixation that I
can understand. Convince me that you cannot
wait to come back, that you prefer me to the
sun. Tell me that you know how I fought for
you. Your mother makes the days longer on
purpose and I grow homesick in the absence
of your body. Tell me that you chose me. That
you love me. That you crave the dark. Kristina Haynes, “Reassurances to Hades” (via fleurishes)