and i his long loved bride,
today he quietly loved me
and i he, in stride.
today nothing magical was said or done,
no deep longing made voice to one another.
we washed the hair of our babies fine,
each sister and each brother.
today no great lovesong poured alongside
our exhausted bodies as we made for bed
but a simple pause in movement -
his hands, my head.
today his eyes were dim forest groves
and his back a clearing wide.
and i was not the lustful girl
but the witness of a wife.
today we were not clever,
we did not dance or laugh or sing.
but flew each other parallel:
wing, to wing.
today i remember our hard learned treasure
that love is not always a loud, lusty song
but an ever steady abiding,
that rights life's crooked wrongs.
today he did not know i watched
as he stroked the baby's face
and i marveled at the endurance of love
and the sanctuary of grace.
today i wish for my valentine,
peace, and a healing heart
for his burden to be lightened
and his hand in mine in the dark.
image via The Smithsonian The Art Of Love
