Dear Faith (Two Legged Dog Who Learned to Walk), 

Mystics are impossibles making ourselves possible by will.

Like Saxena’s many forced amputations, your third leg was amputated when you were very young. Did you want to keep that leg even though it had begun to atrophy? What would that leg have been like for you? A trophy of what you later transgressed? A literal flesh trophy that would not leave you, there, remaining on your dignified body? I often wonder if this is how xe felt about xyr clots. Wanted to hoard the clots like an animal’s cache. Wanted how the clots made xem feel, regardless of what others outside of xems may have thought of the clots. Wanted will by will.
You were adopted when another found your mother attempting to smother you. Doctors also cautioned that you should be euthanized. Why were so many (even your own lineage) trying to end you, to alleviate you of your mighty chance? Distressed identity meets distressed destiny. Reminds me of eating the pink wafers as a child. “If you will eat the pink wafers, why won’t you wear the pink dress?” my mother prodded. “Because it is a flavor, not a signifier,” I thought, but could not say.