He Could Heal Me

Agitation does not leave me alone.  It is a child pulling at my skirt.

It is the stinging corner of my forehead, expanding.

It is the noise that suffocates me as the children bicker.

As I switch between chores, multitasking as I do,

it’s the confusion immediately after I step into the other room,

forgetting what it is I had needed.  I try so hard to remember, but to no avail.

It’s the stiffness of my neck and back.  I am tense all over, and all of the time.

Even when the day is done, my mind cannot rest.  It thinks, and thinks, and thinks

of what more I should have done for the day, what I might forget to do the next day.

Heartbreak won’t let me sleep.

I sleep in this bed alone, shivering under thick covers, restless,

without anyone to love me or whose cozy body heat could keep me warm.

In the dark, I remember all the ways I’d taken care of my family.

I couldn’t do much more.  How he blindsided me,

saying his friends’ wives work longer hours than I do, and they do so much more.

I shouldn’t believe I am inadequate.  I serve my family until I am exhausted, every day.

My entire life is devoted to taking care of him and his children.

During the night, in my light sleep, I cannot dream.  I have nightmares.

I panic that I oversleep and I am late for work, or cannot make it

out of the house in time for an event I had planned on going to for months.

I’ve seen signs of my father’s death and his gravesite three times.

I’ve envisioned confronting my husband about his unfaithfulness,

and that he told me he has not only one woman but two he is seeing now.

If I’m lucky, I can daydream as I wash pots and pans….

Somewhere out there, there’s a healer, someone to make the pain go away.

He listens, as out of breath and in haste, I tell him again and again about my troubles.

It doesn’t matter that he’s heard it all before.  He’s patient and he’ll listen once more.

How glad I am to be here, to be his.

He has gentle hands upon my shoulders as he says everything will be okay.

Kind hands that help me up from where I’d been sitting, and holds my hand

as I walk in tall boots, so I do not fall and scrape my knee.

His helping hands gently work out the tension in my neck and shoulders,

patiently ensuring I loosen up and relax.

His lips speak soft words. They say I’m beautiful and he’s proud of me.

He shares stories of his life and his imagination, so I don’t have to think about mine.

He speaks of love and adoration.

And gives butterfly kisses.  Warm upon my lips, I forget my sadness.

His body close to mine, brings the heat I need.  I smell the earthy scent of pine,

yearning for him to touch every part of me, in every way.

I keep time to his faint breath, and forget the world with the love we make….

I know he’s out there. I just need to find my way to him….