Lately I've been troubled by the thought of marriage, am I taking a leap of faith? do I know what lies underneath if I fall? Is it a beginning or an end? am I ready? Will she love me till the end? Will I be a good father, a good husband? and questions so and so had invaded the most part of my mind, leaving me baffled.
This morning, I quickly grabbed a magazine while headed to the washroom to relieve a part of that gargantuan breakfast I had in the morning, my first glance dropped on this beautiful piece of poetry which was incidentally read while on the potty.
"So lately come to it, it troubles me
when someone speaks of “marriage” as a thing
apart, abstract; some alien entity —
a separable prefix, a gold ring —
And when I hear “a marriage on the rocks”
(I’m sorry but) I cannot help but see
some murky, over-complicated cocktail
whose bitters have obscured all trace of sweet.
“How goes the marriage?” “It goes swimmingly,”
I answer, thinking, “You should ask a fish
to talk about her feelings for the sea,
the muscling of ebbs and flows, the shifts
in temperature, degrees of salt and sweet"
how, if removed from it, she couldn’t breathe.