A hot, cloudy day
we stood before witnesses and vowed.
Like plunging underneath clear, cold water
in the name of Father, Son, and Spirit.
We spoke words too bold to be retracted:
I am not my own.
I have no other lover.
With this ring I thee wed.
A circle on my finger.
There every time I look down.
And the comforting truth of sacrament
is the more powerful when familiar.
Like bread and wine – the intangible made small enough
for us forgetful human children to hold.
I belong to another.
We belong to each other.
Pulsing, coursing rivers run through every limb.
Nerves like trees – roots and branches.
Skin and thoughts and tangled hair.
They are yours.
Eyes, mind, heart, and flesh – set apart for you.
Touch me and know my love is sacred.
Hold me and know
With my body I thee worship.
Even Solomon did not understand this kind of love.
I know you and am known.
Grace flows between us and sands us smooth.
My lips speak of your good, for your good.
Your pleasure is my pleasure.
Let’s fall into holy laughter
and never recover.
Whether I had two pennies or a Swiss bank account
the point remains the same.
Our house. Our dinner. Our future.
We put all things together and stir.
What I have, I give.
When you succeed, I profit.
For better or worse
With all my worldly goods I thee endow.
No goal is high enough if it benefits only me.
Your good is my good.
Let’s weave our daily life in knots
too complex to untie
My shoes in your closet.
Your song in my ears.
Fifty/fifty is a paltry compromise.
Love is not love, which seeks its own.
Vows from the Book of Common Prayer