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in God’s sovereign hand
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separation I've accepted the finality of my marriage.
The divorce may well be coming soon.
The wedding was beautiful, perfect,
too perfect. Her dress, magnificent
and she, a ravishing, gleeful bride.
Her eyes were delicate, dovelike,
her hair, pinned into place, eloquent.
Our plans and prayers, answered
in the overwhelming affirmative,
our friends and families, joyfully
anticipating our union under God.
The sorrows we had borne together
and separately knitted into us
compassion, mercy in the arms of grace.
Autumn winds prophesied a cooling off,
a season of dwindling passions as
our passions were burned together,
and the trials of adversity threshed
the wheat from the chaff, leaving us
but morsels, breadcrumbs to subsist upon.
I have had that experience
I have had that experience (once, in the failure of a marriage; more than once in the failures of more casual relationships in high school and college). The deviousness of the forces that cause the failure is that the experience comes with an implied suggestion, which we all dread to face, that it has a lasting duration; and, at least in my case (and, I suspect, in the great multitude of them), it does not.
My heart goes out to you.
Starward