Return to me, my angel of life
Let us dance heart to soul
Let the rhythm of our one pulse
Merge with the singing
Of our one soul.

Return to me, my angel of beauty
Let me swim in your heart’s cry
Let me soak in the depth of your eyes
We, grafted when saplings
Only grow as one giant cedar.

Return to me, my angel of joy
Let me gift you the one thing I own
Let my heart settle with whom it belongs
Deep inside your treasure chest
Locked for only you to possess.

Return to me, my angel of sorrow
Let our tears form the same river
Let our agonies heal our wounds
Gashes that have torn us into
The abomination of two.

Return to me, my angel of paradise
Let us dwell in the garden we tended
Let us bloom together among the roses
Our blossoms so brightly hued
The Sun will worship our love.

I read a poem today by Jack Gilbert.  It was called
“Failing and Flying”
and sold me a new paradigm.
He drew an analogy between Icarus’ skyfall
and divorce.  Remember Icarus?  
He flew with handcrafted wings high into the sky.  
His elation was so great it melted his wings
and he tumbled to his death in the sea.
It feels tragic, that he flew only to fall; just like marriage feels tragic
when love takes wing only to crash and burn.  
But as Jack Gilbert wrote, “anything worth doing
is worth doing badly….
…Icarus was not failing as he fell, but just coming to the end
of his triumph.”
He described the last fond moments with his wife,
and concluded his marriage was not a mistake.

I often weep for awful events in my marriage; but the marriage itself
is no mistake.
It’s my triumph.
I really don’t want to fly only to fall.  But if I must,
our flight was never a mistake.

My dreams were filled with frightful things;
Warblers riding ravens' wings.
Obsidian bodies flocked in rows,
Walking slowly over trees.

Stiff dead children sailed dark seas.
Warblers riding on their backs.

The ravens marched in close formation,
An army of dark purpose,
Taking warblers to the shore
To ride their grim escorts.

What frightful things must abide
In this gentle heart of mine
To summon images like these.
I dare not try explore.

A wolf sauntered near the flock
of innocent white sheep,
and in that cunning mind he thought
"I think I'll have some fun."

He loudly bayed behind a rock,
and sat with toothy grin.
And let his laughter thunder loud
to chase their panicked run.

The flock of innocent white sheep
shot straight into the air.
With startled hearts they ran about,
save one too slow,
was trampled unknown down.

Innocent sheep with minds so dull,
felt a body under hoof.
At once in heart they all believed
they had felled the big bad wolf.

No longer innocent, these sheep,
turned with eyes red glaring.
They every one chose a stick
and killed their brother there.

The wolf had not expected this;
jaw dropping in despair.
He thought aloud while running off,
"Of blood this time I'm innocent,
and blessed I'm not a sheep!"

The moral of these verses,
you may have early guessed,
those sheep aren't sheep at all,
but really you and me.
Wolves will bay, snarl and snap,
so that we'll fear for life.
Instead of racing for ourselves,
pick the weaker up.
It's only then we'll cease to be
a flock of mindless sheeple.