Sometimes it seems
That I am doing penance
For the wicked demons
That rage inside my mind and heart.
Other times it is different.
Things just flow naturally.
I am strong where you are weak,
And you are strong where I am weak.
Our personalities
And physical impairments
Fit together
Like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
We work together,
Hand in hand,
To create a wonderful masterpiece
That we call marriage.
An angel, they say, I am,
For putting up with all
Your special needs,
And those of our friends.
So compassionate,
Such understanding,
To always be there
When you need me, they say.
But it is you who are the angel,
For putting up with me.
All my faults,
That come aplenty.
Being married
To a strong, independent
Woman, who happens to be
Visually impaired,
Is not a challenge,
When compared
To a husband with mental illness
And all that comes with it.
Your needs
Pale in comparison
To all my hang-ups.
So how can they say
That I am a saint,
When you have had
To put up with so much
For so long?
If it was up to me,
I would be alone and miserable.
But with you,
My life is complete.
With the grace of your
Forgiving, gentle heart,
You have spun a cocoon
In which both of us
Ugly worms
Have been transformed
Into beautiful butterflies,
Fluttering through the sky.
Stumbling along the sidewalk 