My anger stands between us like a
Or a river of burning brimstone straight from Hell.
I love you, and I want to love you well;
I call for help, but you can't hear my
I love you for the man that you've become
And for the years we've put into this life.
But all the pain I've suffered as your wife
Has left my poor, scarred spirit deaf and dumb.
God help me, please! I need to cross to you
And live the life I never thought we could.
Be patient with my anger, and the good
Within us will my fisted thoughts undo.
I know the fault is mine now, and I'll try
To let go of the wounded, dying past.
For us and for our son this has to last.
And so I bid my angry soul good-by.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon