Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Twenty-One


In 1989 my wife Diana and I had been married twenty-one years. We had met in high school and wed at age twenty. After two decades we had grown to a family of five with the addition of three children: a daughter in 1970, a son in 1976, and another son in 1987.

As part of our anniversary celebration I crafted a poem. It is so minimal as to be almost in code, but the chronology was ours. It was our own not-so-secret itinerary of twenty-one years.

Twenty-One

Two. One.
San Antonio,
Where we sketched the melody.
Who would have guessed?

Then? Emporia.
Now we are one.
Two. One.
Two in step.

A kind of dance, just we
Two.
Three. Four.
And then five. Amazing!

Sheboygan.
Amazing Zweibrücken.
Twenty-one years, stepping
In time.

Who would believe it?

I can give you a lyric.
The rhyme is clear too.
But I own no rhythm:
The rhythm is you.

Two years later, in 1991, Diana died during an asthma attack. A lifelong medical condition had suddenly turned vicious.

On August 22, 2012, another twenty-one years will have passed. It will be a sadder anniversary, marking the event of her death. In two decades I have moved on with my life, as one must. But I have never forgotten the two decades of joy Diana and I had together.

Twenty-One, Again

Two. One.
A decade, then another,
And one more year.
Who would have guessed?

Then? Well, that was
When the world ended,
Came crashing down.
Two became One.

Dance halted, music stopped.
And then—one life went on.
Twenty-one years, again,
Raced by.

Who would believe it?

Yet my empty arms
Still hold you,
And my aching heart
Still loves you.

Twenty-one then, twenty-one now,
But never time enough.


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