It’s not often that I write something like a poem or a song. So I’m always sure that it’s crap when I do. I posted this poem a year ago, and then deleted it because of the above mentioned complex. But I found it in a composition book tonight and felt led to re-post it. So without further ado, a poem about what 12 years learning to love one person has taught me.
Two souls made of skin
Lie in the moonlight.
Redeemed by their Creator.
Learning how to be servants.
Learning lessons through pain.
Learning the meaning of holy.
Learning how little they know.
They put this day behind them,
Lay it in a grave with 10 years worth of others.
A grave full of mostly mistakes
But sprinkled with laughter.
Bound by equally stubborn hearts,
They yearn for the servant they desire in the other
To be found in themselves.
And the Creator numbers the hairs on their heads.
And continues to make two become one.