December 30, 2021

Thirty-two years . . .

On a bad day that might seem

Like a lot of crosses to bear,

But I can't see how any other day

Along the way still leads me here,

To a life of aches that bark,

And scars that stand

In stark contrast to the flawless lives

We assume others had.

A butterfly moves,

We are sucked in the current,

Forming a circle to protect

What one loves from dangers

So apparent and so undeterred.

At any time, if we had pushed

And prodded to take a different road,

I can't see the present we receive

Or the future still untold.

It's a bit of a paradox,

This anniversary celebration,

Thirty-two years now more orthodox

Than progressive in a time

Of instant gratification:

I stand and lie beside you,

Fight the tendencies to pick

Apart the things you do

That naturally come from

Thirty-two years of co-dependency.