Yesterday, I found within me a sharp so bitter it could twain my marriage and dismember a family.

In one gestalt twist of grievance, I realized I had the capacity to cut relationship with the detached precision of a pathologist.

My scalpel tongue gleaned against my clenched jaw in clinical consideration of the Y Cut as The Husband and I hit the first immutable impasse of our marriage like a hearse.

It was entirely mutual.

The smell of potential decay cleaved in my nostrils like carrion.

I stood in the rigor mortis of that moment and knew I had to yield or the damage I would do to my marriage would be irreparable.

My pulse races now even to reconsider how concrete was that tomb.

An expansive, vile id lurked inside me like a dark mine ready to deploy.

The Prince of Peace lives there inside me too.

It was the moment just before the moment too late.

It was taught, tight tension as sharp as a guillotine.

It was entirely mutual.

I bit my tongue hard enough to taste salt.
I drew in Light.
I put down being right.
I put away I don’t want to.
I shelved blame.
Through Grace,
by His strength alone
I chose Love.

Mercy pardoned us as we forgave each other the trespasses against us.

Nothing.
Nowhere.
Is more important to me than this marriage, this family and a life together.