A Marriage by Michael Blumenthal

[jillianfish.livejournal.com]

You are holding up a ceiling
with both arms. It is very heavy,
but you must hold it up, or else
it will fall down on you. Your arms
are tired, terribly tired,
and, as the day goes on, it feels
as if either your arms or the ceiling
will soon collapse.

But then,
unexpectedly,
something wonderful happens:
Someone,
a man or a woman,
walks into the room
and holds their arms up
to the ceiling beside you.

So you finally get
to take down your arms.
You feel the relief of respite,
the blood flowing back
to your fingers and arms.
And when your partner's arms tire,
you hold up your own
to relieve him again.

And it can go on like this
for many years
without the house falling.

This was read as a toast by the best man at a wedding I was in on Saturday. I thought it was incredible and wanted to share it. Hope you enjoy!

The Oldest Child (G.A. Anderson) and a Request

[takethisstep.livejournal.com]

Hey all. 

I'm hoping someone can help me locate a poem that I read years ago.  The poem was about Lucifer and God.  I think it was from God's point of view.  He and Lucifer were friends before the big split.  Lucifer was called either Lucky or Lucy.  And the last lines were about God missing his friend.  It was probably less than 30 lines total. 

And in exchange, here's a poem from G.A. Anderson:

The Oldest Child ~~

You're glad you have the nearness of your loving oldest child.
The one with quick and ample wit, and sweet endearing ways.
The boy who brings you laughter and who's never been a trial.
The oldest child brings happiness to brighten up your days.
But your heart is torn when having borne that tiny coldest child.
The one who doesn't love and makes it hard for you to breathe.
The babe whose cry is never still; you never see him smile.
He'll often make you wish that you could pack your bags and leave.
And then you have another sort, that clever boldest child.
This one thrives inspired by frustration and complaint.
This child tries to trick you, but he's sneering all the while.
This one strains a mother's heart into a weary faint.
Of course you can't just give up now and walk beyond your door.
You know this much because you're "Mom" and they depend on you.
This is the life you wanted, and you'd wanted even more.
You'll love them all and make life work, no matter what you do.
The years go by and soon enough they'll all be out the door.
You'll miss the tears, the hurts, the fights, the nights that were so wild.
You'll wish you had the kids around your feet forevermore.
The boldest and the coldest, and as well, the oldest child.

~ G. A. Anderson