The One Wish Granted

My impossible made possible is that I could have a sprawling house large enough to shelter and bring up every unwanted child. All of them. That I could have enough money to educate them in whatever discipline they had a natural talent for – music, math, art, science. That I could keep, love, and mother them until they were old enough to live and thrive on their own.

I’d take them all. No questions asked of you, the parents. No judgment for why you don’t want him, why she doesn’t fit in with your schedule, why they’re mistakes you have to wipe clean, why they’re accidents or ugly mementos.

I’ll take them. You don’t have to see them ever again.

Just don’t kill them, please. Please, don't.

J. W. Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott, 1888

The wanton lily bloom gone, you’re the last

Pale flower in this river’s dim expanse—

The mirror of the wild wold—waning fast—

That was once yours to weave. Now, take this chance

To feel the river creep up your white sleeve,

Drift down the river that leads you to your

Dark, mysterious Death, who by your leave

Glides to your unmoored boat by foreign shore.

You lift your face to his: keep it there, greet

Him with your song, art such as Lancelot

Cannot deserve. So, sing your carol sweet—

Indeed, in death ne’er will you be forgot.

The poets metered life beyond your death,

And painters caught your last immortal breath.

{Sonnet inspired by John William Waterhouse's The Lady of Shalott. Here is a beautiful thing for your ears.}