News on Street Stories | Debra R. Borys

M.J. Joachim, who did a thoughtful review of Bend Me, Shape Me recently, invited me to do a guest post about who I am, a theme you may have seen a few times here in this blog.

I wouldn’t be the woman who can now look at the darkness and deal with it if I hadn’t first been the woman who believed there is love and laughter and grace in the world.

I feel blessed to have “double vision” like this. While I still don’t see the whole elephant, knowing that there is more to life than just the trunk I am blindly clinging to has made me a more curious, more accepting person than I feel I would be otherwise. At least I know the truth of how we all see “but a poor reflection as in a mirror” and I fully look forward to seeing “face to face.” “Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

Read more on M.J. Joachim’s Writing Tips

I found the following poem in a pile of old journals and materials that I had in storage. I don’t exactly know when it was written, but I do know to whom. I wrote it as a present for my husband when we were still married, probably mid-way or toward the end of our thirteen year marriage.

Reading this reminds me of those times when my heart was “hit with a painful light” and what it is like to love someone so much it “burns away the doubts and fears.” I miss loving that way, so completely. Are “grownups” ever able to trust enough to love the way we did when we were young and reckless? We grow cynical and cautious when we see too much of life and know what people are capable of doing to each other.

It seemed significant somehow that the word Love is smudged on the parchment paper by what looks like it may have been a tear drop. I was sure when I wrote this poem that the last line was true, that “always, always, the love remains.” It didn’t feel that way to either of us at the end. Yet I don’t think it really went away, either. Not for me, at least. I still feel it when I look back, like an ache in my throat. Maybe not missing him exactly, but missing loving him.

And Love Remains

When stress persists, it levels low
The years behind us, the future’s glow
Daily toil becomes mundane
The days all seem to proceed the same
Like a blind man groping in the darkest night
Dulled emotions are hidden from sight
Though faith exists, it’s often weak
And sometimes hope is afraid to speak
Then amidst confusion, anger and strife
My heart is hit with a painful light
A love so strong it burns away
The doubts and fears that mark my days.
My love seems empty, a source of pain
But always, always, the love remains.