"Mama, why
do the boys stare at me?"

She stares at me with her
bright green eyes
and golden wavy hair
that falls perfectly.

"Mama, why?"

What in all my years has prepared me
to answer this?

"That's—because—"

Ask me no questions,
I'll tell you no lies.

"Because—"

I flounder, but she
doesn't notice.
She just stares at me,
waiting.

I think.
I should have looked this up.
I should have anticipated it.
I stare at her.

"Hmm?  Mama?"

I decide to brush it off.
"You know why. You're
just fishing."
I tease.  Deflect. Wait.

But still she stares, so I lean in.  
Hating each word before it emerges.
As if the sum of our existence,
our attractiveness to the world,
our usefulness,
hangs on this one flimsy, filmy,
fleeting facet of our being—

"They stare because you're pretty."

I smile love at her.
Before I walk away.

One beautiful day in June I met you,
alone with borrowed car and fluttered nerve,
trusting. Our God would keep and see me through.

I ate my lunch, watching your every chew,
and laughing.  I saw also how you serve--
one beautiful day in June I met you.

We went to that marsh--then truly I knew,
though our brave path would not be without curve,
our gracious God would keep and see us through.

We sat on grass under the sky so blue,
and talked theology with no reserve,
that beautiful day in June I met you.

Those early moments when it was so new,
we carefully tried the other to observe.
That beautiful day in June I met you
knowing that God would keep and see us through.

We went on, we struggled, and so we grew.
The miles stretched far, the months much too long,
we thought. But God would keep and see us through.

One fine day in July we said "I do"--
and thus our partnership became lifelong.
We went on, we struggled, and so we grew.

So many days, we didn't have a clue.
We are sinners, prideful, selfish, headstrong.
Despite us, God would keep and see us through.

We looked in the mirror, in the Word too,
and have often found ourselves steeped in wrong;
we went on, we struggled, and so we grew.

Somewhere with grace it began to come true:
we two, as one, started to plod along--
We are seeing God keep and see us through.

With all those past years and struggles in view,
in grace our love is learning to be strong.
That beautiful day in June I met you,
and every day God has kept and seen us through.

the beast in me wants to romp
and enrage the beast in you
tonight

you see my beast is locked up
in chains, a fearful cell--
locked tight

but when yours calls mine
it answers with unabashed
delight

"set me free," it begs
and the shadows grow
with fright

with myself and my desire
my deadly determination that I—I
am right

then your pet answers me and
out they fly—sparks and gunpowder
ignite

the beasts in lethal fury
grievances, protests, objections
recite

unfettered, unchained, and uncontrolled
they spin, they soar, they destroy
they fight

we lock away our agency
our wisdom—our love
from sight

our pets are eating us, my dear!
we look at each other and mourn,
contrite

too late.  the damaged flesh
has uncovered our bones and shown us
each bite

there is no return.
but perhaps if we wrestle,
unite?

with every power we strive:
we send those animals back into
the night

when the morning breaks at last
have we gained
insight?

are we richer than before?
do we know any more with
hindsight?

is it worth the blood we bore
as our beasts fought before
daylight?

silence. there is no good
from letting the beast pretend to be
a knight

we have not won this day;
the events do nothing but
indict

we must build cages that hold our beasts
that constrain this ugly temper
more tight

and keep our hands off the latches
because love is always better
than spite