Rescue

I wrote this poem for Steve over 25 years ago and it’s truer now than ever.

I didn’t want you to rescue me.
You didn’t fit my plans for my life.
I wanted to climb my own mountains,
slay my own dragons,
break magic spells all by myself.

Then there you were–awkwardly fitting armor,
lacking in gentlemanly graces,
moody, even childish, in your demands on my life.

And I succumbed, yielding to your persuasive powers,
drawn by your presence,
intrigued by your demands.

How can I be so happy in
being what I never planned to be,
doing what I never intended to do,
in a place I never wanted to be?

Now you move gracefully in your armor–shining white,
your graces far exceeding my own,
your concern and sharing overwhelming me.

I would never have chosen this path on my own,
Would never have turned this direction
without God’s guidance,
prodding me
drawing you to me,
guiding us, as we

Climb mountains,
slay dragons, and
break magic spells
Together.

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