"Arranged Love"
By Joseph Ridgway
Bit and harness chaffing,
always a capricious climb —
Strength sometimes failing,
seldom steps of sweet rhyme.
He to her left —
She to his right —
Calmly coaxing
him and his might.
They knew each other well —
But it wasn’t sonnets
nor lust
for which they fell.
When he picked up a stone,
their rhythm fell askew —
She took the extra weight,
until remaining steps were few.
A life of travail,
then one night came the shot —
His loss unrealized, until
morning brought her not.
They paired him with another.
She was impatient to start.
It was lighter on the load —
but heavier on the heart.
always a capricious climb —
Strength sometimes failing,
seldom steps of sweet rhyme.
He to her left —
She to his right —
Calmly coaxing
him and his might.
They knew each other well —
But it wasn’t sonnets
nor lust
for which they fell.
When he picked up a stone,
their rhythm fell askew —
She took the extra weight,
until remaining steps were few.
A life of travail,
then one night came the shot —
His loss unrealized, until
morning brought her not.
They paired him with another.
She was impatient to start.
It was lighter on the load —
but heavier on the heart.
Author’s Note:
This poem was influenced by the lengthy marriage of my maternal grandparents, with their relationship commencing with their respective needs and desires of their families and friends. My grandfather, who was from Sicily, had first come to America alone, planning to have his then wife and their three children join him after he got situated. She passed away shortly after he left and his new wife (who became my grandmother), who was from Naples, took him and his children on. If that doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it wasn’t. The family never called it an arranged marriage, but it was sure close. My grandmother’s love for his existing three children coupled with his sense of fatherly obligation led to their life-long marriage including four additional children with many wonderful and colorful relatives and our experiences to follow.
This poem is a tribute to them and their relationship and their gift to all of us as being the best grandparents in every sense of the word. My grandmother passed away in 1995 at the age of 96, and my grandfather passed away in 1983 at the age of 90. They are still with me every day.
This poem first appeared in, “STORIES THAT NEED TO BE TOLD, A TULIPTREE ANTHOLOGY 2019” published and printed by Tulip Tree Publishing, LLC.
This poem was influenced by the lengthy marriage of my maternal grandparents, with their relationship commencing with their respective needs and desires of their families and friends. My grandfather, who was from Sicily, had first come to America alone, planning to have his then wife and their three children join him after he got situated. She passed away shortly after he left and his new wife (who became my grandmother), who was from Naples, took him and his children on. If that doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it wasn’t. The family never called it an arranged marriage, but it was sure close. My grandmother’s love for his existing three children coupled with his sense of fatherly obligation led to their life-long marriage including four additional children with many wonderful and colorful relatives and our experiences to follow.
This poem is a tribute to them and their relationship and their gift to all of us as being the best grandparents in every sense of the word. My grandmother passed away in 1995 at the age of 96, and my grandfather passed away in 1983 at the age of 90. They are still with me every day.
This poem first appeared in, “STORIES THAT NEED TO BE TOLD, A TULIPTREE ANTHOLOGY 2019” published and printed by Tulip Tree Publishing, LLC.