My husband is still my husband
even though my body has nothing
left to give him when we are
stripped of all mortal attachments.
When we are laying side by side
on a mattress with cold sweat
on our temples.
Even if we are headed to this
place we feel robbed to
no longer have the option
to choose it for ourselves.
Our biologies tell us all
we need to know.
My husband is still my husband
though he gathers his mortal attachments
and puts them back on
layer by layer.
When he heads for the cloudiness
of the warm summer night
we first stop to embrace one another.
I can feel he has let go
from the inside.
I can tell I am no longer
tethered to his boat ramp that
is drowning in grief
so I let the embrace last longer.
I hold his heart in mine
so that it leaves coated in the
assurance that love will find it again.
My husband is still my husband,
but we will soon draw the papers
that take that away from us.
It won’t ever change how
I feel about the way our lives collided.
There will always be a part of him
embedded in me because
he taught me how to love me.
He taught me how to see what
he saw when we fell in love.
A paper will never take that love
away from us.
As much as I don’t understand it
I still feel like we will still
be connected in the eternities.
When my husband is no longer my husband
there will still be a fondness that bubbles
when I remember the memories.
The look he had when he first
held our son.
Sharing cocoa and toast.
The first hug after a long day when
I had to hold my breath without
him realizing it because he
always worked so hard for us.
We were healing ground for each other,
and this is what matters most
