Must be tough being married to me
A kiss can turn into a nightmare, intimacy much worse
When the beast of illness rears its ugly head
And convulsive episodes ensue and last and last . . .
You never really know when
Some sweetness will turn to black
Your affections will turn to caretaking
Yielding another failed remedy instead of a back rub . . .
No partner by your side
Others asking about the phantom wife
Does she really exist out there somewhere
Or is it just on paper and within her cage of the home?
She cooks alright and keeps the house afloat
But complains every time you call
Of this dire affliction or that when he’s at work
Helpless, other-directed, and burdened under the strain . . .
Months turned into years
As life tried to move on so we
Try to celebrate this or that, have a nice meal
Only to have her collapse at the kitchen table again . . .
He has gotten stronger
From carrying her burdened frame
To the toilet, the bed, the couch, off the floor
Rolling her over in bed, lifting her up to drink . . .
He has had to adjust to this abnormalcy of life
Never mentioning it unless another asks
For the pain of the story isn’t worth the awkward moment
A thousand times told, untold a bit later . . .
Tis the Lord’s will
The believer in Christ must contend
Yet are we not commanded to fight
For good, for answers, for more faith when tears flow?
He remains strong
Goes to work and play
To cope with the madness . . .
She waits at home
What choice does she have?
Her calling different from his
Or is it when bound by love?
There is no right way
To navigate a life gone off the rails
Except to breathe daily in prayer
When being married to me. JJ