You’re a beacon, baby
Oh yeah.
You flicker like a flame
and I come to you.
I’m a lost ship.
I’m a moth.
You’re a candle
when the power’s out.
You’re a flashlight
slicing through the night.
You’re a beacon, baby.
Bring me home.
.
.
.
Hmm. Sounds like it wants to be a song, doesn’t it?
I tied the sheets around the bedpost,
dropped out the window out of sight,
followed you down to the River Styx
with the water dark as night.
I leapt. You bet.
I swam against the current
bumped against all those lost souls
but I was going to find you, and I did.
I tossed a coin to the boatman as he poled along his way, I crawled into the boat
and I did say,
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your hearts in little bits.
Kharon shrugs his shoulders, pulls us up to the next dock
He doesn’t care if we should choose to walk.
I wrap my arms around you and I drag you to the light,
because you’re too precious not to fight with all my might.
If I must be the strength then so be it,
let’s do what we can to make you fit,
I promised I’d be there for better or for worst
and Baby, I’m not driving with that hearse!
In sickness and in health, In poverty and wealth
I told you
and I told you
and I told you.
I don’t care how black your night is
I don’t care how deep the pit
I will follow you and pull you back for air.
I will follow through the darkness
I will swim the River Styx
I will do it because that’s what marriage is.
It’s sticking when your heart’s in little bits.
And I’m sticking so let’s hear no more of this.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
We all suffer those hits.
I’m strong this time, and you’ll be fine
in time.
In time.
In time.
In time, Baby you’ll be fine.
.
.
.
.
I had no idea what that was when the first lines came, but apparently it’s the lyrics to a country song about dealing with a spouse with depression. Who knew!
She arrives home exhausted.
“Ooh,” he says, nose curled.
“Those pants are terrible.”
She stares at him, deposits groceries on the counter,
heads down the hall,
and collapses into bed, too tired
to discuss appropriate comments,
respect, and positive encouragement.
She sleeps.
Hours later, she awakens, hungry,
makes some toast.
He comes upstairs. “The kid is out,” he says,
heading to the bedroom.
Ah, she thinks. That’s code for ‘Apology sex.’
Wise of him.
She bathes, listening to him preparing
in the other bathroom.
She climbs into bed,
to find him snoring.
She wishes she had eaten beans,
cauliflower
and cabbage for dinner.
She ponders delivering a two footed
kick to his backside, propelling him out of bed,
and into the wall.
(An easy task, since now she probably outweighs him).
Instead, she rolls over,
and sleeps.
you
me
. sauntering
strolling .
. meandering
traipsing .
. ambling
lumbering .
. lurching
staggering .
. tottering
striding .
. marching
lunging .
we
embrace
.
.
.
I hope this works on your monitor. The 2 perspectives should come evenly from either side to meet at “we / embrace”
Shawn L. Bird 