A modern trimming,
Grin and bear it.
The slap of a buckle,
Reminiscent of the squeeze.
Laces bloodied,
From a prayer of acceptance.
Breathing is optional.
The shove to a corner,
Start early for pattern recognition,
Bind the idea prematurely.
Numbed pain,
Limited motion.
Embrace wind through the long locks,
It's only an illusion of progression.
Most of us at one time or another take this marriage vow. At the time it is usually a rote
recitation because we are young and our attention is on other imminent matters. And that's
the way it should be. Nevertheless, if we remain married and outlive a spouse we are faced
with the same thoughts, doubts, questions and helplessness as the man in the following
poem. Verse 14 he does the only thing he can do to express his love for her before the
casket is closed.
She laid upon a cold and stony bier
within an open coffin lined with silk.
She didn't look the same: Her face appeared
to have an ashen color,white as milk.
In life her comely facial features glowed
a lovely roseate. but now she is dead.
Forever gone from me. My head is bowed
in prayer and sadness all around. I dread
the coming years without her next to me.
Is life important anymore?, I asked
myself. Her love is still alive but she
is motionless before me with the mask
of death and delicately folded hands.
I gently touched her golden wedding band.