what marriage really feels like

Standard

We lost sight of ourselves
In the blink of an eye
Kidnapped in rouge
Red with anger and my

Tightly woven escape
Became his quick foray
One moment one word
And then suddenly rage

Wrapping tightly its grasp
Around all that we had
Become, now undone
Just as simple as that

Little whispering lie
In my hot fragile mind
And the chaos then multiplied
Madness: unkind

Question marking our moves
Deaf to love dead to soothe
The callousing feeling
And having to prove

That I laid down my guard
So I softened my stance
Humility proving
That stillness can dance

Not a two step beside
Not a slow lullaby
But a back and forth rhythm
In which I’d abide

Within him and I
Grief could not mark its prey
Too far yet from dying
Too prideful to say

I am sorry
Me too
Yet the words would not do
Without being needed
…We already knew…

It is simple and kind.
Compassionate. Blind.
Merciful. Candid. And human inside.

Love knows not the forms
We perceive it to have
It wisens us all
To its infinite task

We breech and come back
In erroneous ways
Of life-burdened living
…But it’s life that will save

There is room in this shoe
For your own point of view
You’re welcome to wear it, he says…
And me too.

I step right inside.
Familiar in size
I like how it fits me
(Between you and I)

My perfect-most love
Imperfect, undone
The winning is found in the losing

…We won.

One war at a time
One flesh with two minds
And all of that passion
Within him is mine.

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10 responses »

    • I was reminded of this quote, thinking of you. Or rather, thinking of life’s unpredictability and how freely that spontaneous river of uncertainty has flown between us… πŸ™‚
      “If there are occasions when my grape turned into a raisin and my joy bell lost its resonance, please forgive me. Charge it to my head and not to my heart.” –Jesse Jackson
      There’s not much in this life more powerful, more transformative, more compassionate, than forgiveness. I’m quite convinced that’s the secret ingredient in superglue, as well as my mom’s French Silk Pie Recipe. Forgiveness.

      • You are just too much! you should be published and a millionaire! ps. the french silk pie recipe is actually passed to me from Ninny… love you most!

        • “Love you most” is a trump card. A totally unfair disadvantage for me, because no matter what I say my words fall short. Drives me crazy. I’m sure I’ll look back on it and smile, telling my kids the same thing once they’re too old to simply reaping with “Huh uh!” and actually begin contemplating the implications of me claiming to love them more, and the predicament they will find themselves in… For now, it just makes me nuts.

          I love you something less than most but more than least, and that’s still more than anyone else in the history (or the future) of humankind has ever or will ever love, so yeah. I love you almost most.

    • What an incredible honor! Thank you so mega-much!!! I adore you and I am honored. πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

      I finally created a blogroll but haven’t had the chance to add my favorite blogs to it. You’ll be top on my list. πŸ˜‰ I should have time this afternoon to set it up right.

      Lots of good vibrations. That means a lot.

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