The Pastor’s wife

She holds his hand
In support, she takes his stand
She holds his fears
Inside her tears
When she cries for her man
Who inhabits a spiritual land.

She winces at his pain
When flesh and blood fail him
Again and again
And the critical arctic blasts
That bring a coldness in his soul
Try to freeze his bones until they cannot move.

The headlights flow into each other
Heading home after locking the late night door
He stares down the headlights
Then looks into the future
Across the centre, she holds his tired hand again
Knowing the highway will never end.

The curtains light up again
She puts a brew at the side of his bed
He turns the page and refreshes his spirit
And drinks in some heavenly wisdom
Spirit to spirit, Man to man, Deep unto deep
Here he goes again, so here she goes again too.

Refreshed, refocused, reassured
Their bones thaw
Their spirits are full
They embrace their source
But she’ll keep an eye
On the one whom she shares with the world and heaven.

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