In my final semester at Whitworth, my friend and fellow poetry-phile Dani joined me at Poetry and Pie, an event as fantastic as it sounds. Students and faculty gather around the fireplace in the campus coffee shop with pie in their laps and poetry in their ears.
One of the speakers was the poet Cathy Bobb, who is also the wife of one of my former English professors, Vic Bobb.
The first line of her poem had me hooked. After the line about the maps, I was in tears.
The poem is reprinted here with the author’s permission.
Husband – by Cathy Bobb
When I first lost my mind,
you could have left too.
It never occurred to you.
When the medicine took me
away in milligrams,
you sheltered me.
I came back in inches over years
while the life you were planning
you lost in miles.
You gracefully relinquished it.
You cherished, honored and cheered me.
You never faltered,
and although you drew maps for me,
you never said I was lost.
You welcomed me with
your eyes, words,
you even love
the ghost I sometimes am
and have not grown bitter
waiting for the dead
to rise again.