I wrote this for my wife before we got married. We have been married now for eleven years, and she has given me two glorious orbs of light from heaven (daughters), another gift I am regularly rendered wordless by and can never possibly repay her for. Believe in love, and fight for it when it arrives. It’s worth it.
We always say the words “I love you”
aren’t strong enough.
They aren’t.
Sometimes an emotion is so strong,
words can’t capture it.
The greatest poet can only come close.
Words can’t express love, not really.
Words are tangible, feelings aren’t.
But I am overwhelmed by my love for you.
So, like all the other fools
down through the ages,
I have to try . . .
I love you
like parched earth loves the rain
which awakens the seeds
deeply buried there,
dormant and forgotten,
gently urging them into blossom.
Thus, my hopes spring into life again
through the hardened soil
of my resignation.
That’s how I love you.
I love you
like a homeless man
loves the first rays of the morning sun
after a cold night, uncovered.
I love you
like a soldier, who,
though scarred and bitter
from all he has seen,
hears the laughter of children
and laughs himself
forgetting it all
for that moment.
And sometimes I love you
the way a frightened child
loves the nightlight by his bed.
You have become the mirror of my soul.
You have inspired me to rise above myself
further than anyone ever has before.
You have reminded me that goodness exists,
not by lecturing or judging
but simply by being yourself,
the way a flower shares its beauty
effortlessly
with all who behold it.
So what does such a person do?
A person with a heart so full,
achingly full,
of compassion for the suffering?
A person whose spirit
overflows with generosity
like a natural spring;
A person who Jesus Christ Himself
would point to proudly and say,
“There. She knows what I meant.
Watch her and she will show you The Way.”
What does such a person do?
The only thing she can imagine doing.
She becomes a nurse
so that she can do His work every day.
So that the sick, the infirm and the dying
can see Him in her eyes and be comforted.
So that those whom the world has forgotten
can know in their final days or moments
that somebody cared
and their last glimpse
of this tired and jaded world
will be of something good, sweet, untainted.
They will look into the eyes of a saint
and their passing will be lighter.
I know, you see.
These are not just words.
I know the works you are capable of.
I know the power you possess
in your eyes, your hands, your voice.
I know how fortunate
those in your care will be
because of the times
when you saved me from utter despair;
because of the times
when you helped me to my feet
after suffering injuries
that no x-ray could detect,
injuries of the spirit.
You helped me up
at the lowest moments of my life,
dusted me off, and guided me forward.
How do I thank you for doing nothing less
than reaching into hell and pulling me out?
Once again, words are not enough.
So I’ll just say “I love you”
with this small, human voice,
and hope you understand.
– Mark Rickerby
Mark Rickerby's Blog 