So the song goes. A beautiful expression of true love, a woman vowing her allegiance to her man. Equally beautiful is the man seems to have suggested a need for such help, for such devotion. His Angel has responded, and now he can heal without fear that she is abandoning him or judging him as so many others have throughout his life.
He laid there, the immense pain in his chest beginning to numb under the realization that he was dying. Just moments before he was alive, enjoying the morning with his beloved, laughing about the memories they had created the night before. Now, he was sprawled out on the living room floor fighting for air, and wanting so desperately to talk.
In the candlelight lays destiny
In the moment there is a mountain of truth
Wanting…needing…knowing
Reaching out for an answer to the call
I could not look down for fear of seeing where I was heading. I could not look up because, well, “up” had rejected me. All I knew was at this moment I was married to this piece of glass, and if that glass wouldn’t accept me all I could do is try to accept it and hang on for fear of falling into the abyss.
I am unsure and like a child again searching for her arms, her breast, her soothing voice. The tears I cry are hidden by the salty remains of the wave I let loose on the world, but they are there. Sometimes best cried in solitude, other times best hidden from even the parts of me that want to let them flow.
A man walked into church one day. He looked haggard, tired, unkempt and his clothes were unwashed and wrinkled as if he had slept in them for days. He could not help but notice the stares of the congregation as he moved to a pew near the back of the building.
He saved his girlfriend’s life. He shielded her, he protected her, and he died for her. Many of us would do the same thing for someone we love. Yet, how many of us would do this for someone we don’t even know? I know hundreds, if not thousands, who would and some who have.
To me, it is this simple. The mechanism by which a deranged human being carries out his fantasies is not the issue. A man bent on killing others will find a way to carry out is will regardless of what weapon we put in his hand.
In the ending a new beginning
In the loss a prize eternal
I bask in the tears I shed for her
Such medicine the salty rivers give!
A story of a tortured boy, the woman who loved him, and in finding the truest sense of who we are.
