The Marriage - Anna Wickham
What a great battle you and I have fought!
A fight of sticks and whips and swords,
A one-armed combat,
For each held the left hand pressed close the the heart.
To save the caskets from assault.
How tenderly we guarded them;
I would keep mine and still have yours,
And you held fast to yours and coveted mine.
Could we have dropt the caskets
We would have thrown down weapons
And been at each other like apes,
Scratching, biting, hugging
In exasperation.
What a fight!
Thank God that I was strong as you,
And you, though not my master, were my match.
How we panted; we grew dizzy with rage.
We forgot everything but the fight and the love of the caskets.
These we called by great names-
Personality, Liberty, Individuality.
Each fought for right to keep himself a slave
And to redeem his fellow.
How can this be done?
But the fight ended.
For both was victory
For both there was defeat.
Through blood we saw the caskets on the floor.
Our jewels were revealed;
An ugly toad in mine,
While yours was filled with most contemptible small snakes;
One held my vanity, the other held your sloth.
The fight is over, and our eyes are clear.
Good friend, shake hands.
You’ll always be the one who saw past the caskets and the ugly toad. Thanks for watching sad movies with me and wiping my eyes when I cry, and for laughing at furry shenanigans. I will never not be a challenge to/for you and I am glad you accept. No one has a better relationship than we do, other than The Old Hippies with whom we paddle.
