In celebration of National Poetry Month:
I seem to have always felt restless in relationships. So, I wrote this poem when I began to date a man I got to know while sitting together on the bleachers of our sons’ high school water polo games eight years ago.
Where is my middleman?
The man in the middle.
The one who makes his life about living, keeping balance and steady.
I never stay long enough to find the middle for me.
My life continues to press against one side or the other.
Always chasing a life, and rarely a life for me.
Although my heart longs to dwell where it’s peaceful and calm,
I continue down my beaten path;
forever out of step with my balance, my center, my middle.
Are you my man, my man in the middle?
Not leaning to one side or the other.
Can you make me feel safe,
and know when I need to be outside your grasp?
Are you strong enough to stand still for me?
Is it wise for you to wait for me?
And so, you are before me…my love,
with an offering of warmth and tenderness,
so much that I can’t’ seem to slow my spirit,
as she pulls me toward you.
Is this what it feels like to be in the middle?
A spectator in an unfamiliar place.
Feeling like I’ve come home, but needing to run.
I must free my spirit from this beaten path,
to live my life in balance and peace.
Take my hand in yours and whisper to me,
“You have found your man, I’m your man in the middle”.
Rick and I married four years later.