The Ides of May for Those Who Grieve
It is there in the quiet lament of drooping branches after the tsunami. We find it in the jagged edges of chaff in the harvest. The echoing stillness of new-fallen snow in the dawn tells its story. Iridescent rainbows in brackish puddles of fuel and mud reflect it. It stalks us through dreams, tracking our movements in stealth as we move unknowing away from moonlight. Like the lightning on the mesa, it crackles through each hair like fire, leaving us bereft in its wake. The cry of an infant in darkness waters its bloom in the hollow chambers of our chests. The wedding toast is sour on our tongues because of it. We listen for the quiet flutter of salvation’s wings, and the silence burrows into the marrow of our bones. The chill of untouched sheets bites the tips of our fingers. Where can we find solace when everywhere our eyes rest and every sound the earth makes reminds us of…
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Love, Despite
Love forever!
Before I married my husband, I told him to make sure that he was marrying me for who I was that day, and not for any future changes he hoped to have wrought in me through the “transforming” power of marriage. Though we were both young, I had seen enough unhappy marriages to make me wary of the institution, and who wants to be institutionalized, really? I had no question that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but I wanted us to start off with as little illusion as possible. I wanted to know that he saw me, and not some airbrushed version of a girl to be placed on a pedestal. It is easy to fall in love if you believe all the fairy tales and movies. Beautiful women with flowing hair and flawless skin meet muscled men with pure hearts and chivalrous intentions and they ride off to his manor with servants aplenty…
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