Reaching To The Ends Of The World

How I covet authorship of this poem. I read it to John and declared that its truth and sweetness made me want to burn every word I had ever written. But it also made me want to buy snail shells and wear a single strand of pearls to bed.

My husband is one of those rare men who must be a throw back to before The Fall. He prays for my life and gifts and will do anything he is able to do to allow me to succeed. This success has nothing to do with money. He celebrates my victories, rejoices when I am recognized and, in love, prefers me to himself. It is John's face I see and his body that embraces me but it is Christ loving me through him.

Men like that are pure gifts and as uncommon as unicorns. God must really love me to have bestowed upon me such a fortune.


The Marriage-Bed By Micheal Simms

The marriage-bed is the center of happiness,
a point from which all things ripple outward,
a nest from which all things learn to fly.
It is the sign of return, part of the great rhythm
of the seasons and of the years.
It is the dream of return, the strength and faith
that sing of home.
It is the wren's nest woven of twigs and string,
the swallow's nest of saliva and mud.
It is what we return to, as migratory birds
passing over marshes and fields
dream of the end of the journey.
It is what frightens night-devils away,
even in winter.
It is the tree that grows through the house,
the hollow of the tree that has never known death.
It is the crystal of all feeling, the flower of all
understanding, the small containing the large.
It is the nautilus growing its many chambers of love.
It is the sudden outburst of one who has long been silent.
It is the idea that a calla lily can be shaped
like a wineglass on a long green stem.
It is the heart-stone.
It is the name of all names
that thinks it is a star and a rose.
It is a conch-shell rough on the outside,
pearly in its intimacy.
It is a snail rolling over and over
building a staircase.
It is an animal, an almond, a repose.
It is an oyster opening in the full of the moon.
It is a mouth telling a secret.
It is a kiln where clay battles fire.
It is the simple happiness of sleeping on a boat.
These are the walls we've pressed back into a circle
in the shape of our merged bodies
And it will take a long time for the waves
spreading from the center of our intimacy
to reach the ends of the world.

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When I found Him whom my soul loves I held Him and would not let Him go. Song of Solomon Chapter 3

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Thank you Jesus for Your wonderful love so full of grace.
Thank you for a husband with Your qualities who adores my face.
Amen

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Happy Anniversary to us, John! We have made a marriage and a life. (No contest however that our best work will see his 36th birthday in April.) 38 years and Eternity to go! Kathy