A new poem for my bride.
Great literature is filled
with the quests of people.
These quests sometimes
thrust unwelcomed upon
humans who seek only
the bland and mundane,
or the unwilling who
flee from quests as if
they were the bubonic plague.
And, there are those
who eagerly seek out
adventure, quests
merely a way of life.
You, my love, are
among the latter,
your fate sealed
fifty years ago today,
when you reached out
took my arm in your arm
and we set out into
that cold, driving rain
on that 29th of May.
We were a couple
driven by a single purpose,
the life fulfilling quest
of growing our lives together,
a quest of mythological dimensions.
With the tenacity of Odysseus,
nothing could stop us in our quest.
Poverty, homelessness, and illness,
modern times’ Sirens, Hydra,
and Cyclops tried
… and failed.
We grew our lives together
and in doing so,
grew four more lives
as beautiful and as mysterious
as our own.
So here we are,
fifty years later,
our bodies no longer
as nimble as our younger
selves of yore.
My body, pieced together
with spare parts like
an old beater of a car
that teens drive
until it falls apart.
Your body, hampered
by fractures waiting to heal.
As with Odysseus,
this is just a mere pause,
a respite from our adventure,
in which bodies heal,
and rest provided until
once more, we venture forth
into the greater quest
that still beckons to us
that still waits to be fulfilled.
You remain as vibrant and
beautiful as the girl with
whom I fell in love
fifty years ago.
And, I, marvel
at how Fortune has blessed me.
I thank God every time you reach out
and willingly take my arm
as together we walk
into the future that awaits us.
