Lethal Frosty

Frost (frôst)

1. (v.tr.) To cover with frost. To damage or kill by frost. To anger or upset.
2. (n.) A cold or icy manner. A deposit of ice crystals formed when water vapor condenses at a temperature below freezing.
3. Frôst, Robert Lee,1874-1963. American poet.

Lethal Frosty hides his vicious teeth
beneath his beauty. I hide beneath
the quilts and ponder yesterday’s news:
The frost that sparkles on the rooftops,
a lovely blanket, and those lacy crystals
on the window are harbingers of death.
Death slipped its frosty fingers
through the windows and killed a man,
age 93, in Michigan, on the same day
Robert Frost died, he who penned his epitaph:
“I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.”

I think of the lover’s quarrel beneath
the cozy bedclothes that enfold me.
My breath is white, and the glass
in the window is a jigsaw puzzle of crystals.
I lie beside you covered to the nose,
still as a chipmunk lest I wake you
and you move, stirring cold air
underneath the nest of blankets.

You sleep hard like a tired child,
unaware of me, the glassy air,
the pocket of heat in which I lie
beside your back, unaware
too of cold hard words spoken
late last night between us.
Frost damage has burned
our tender edges and killed
our fragile growth.

Trussed in my warm coffin,
I shiver at the question
of how you will treat me
when you wake up:
Will you be as frost to me?
And will I be as deeply chilled?

__________________________

Lovers' quarrels used to be detrimental to my health. I usually got suicidal over them. I couldn't bear that frosty rejection.

Then I got sober, and in the first year of recovery, God saw to it that I wasn't in a relationship. I wasn't lonely either, because lots of meetings kept my mind and body busy.

Then I met the man who would later become my husband. He was four years sober, and we went to meetings together, dating very carefully. Three times divorced, he would often tell me, "I don't know how to have a healthy relationship. Maybe if I just do everything differently, we'll have a chance."

So we learned to love each other, but it meant many battles with old behaviors and old ideas. The first time we had a lovers' quarrel, I got very nervous. But I managed to tell him how I felt, and he had mercy on me, the first of many times that man was going to have forgiveness for me over the 18 years (so far) of our relationship.

We had our heated arguments, but we tried to make up before we went to sleep at night. Sometimes it just didn't happen, because the problems went deep. That's when I wrote this poem. Worried one more time about rejection, I didn't know for certain we'd survive.

Forgiveness has been our saving grace many, many times. We had promised we would never run from each other, and sometimes that was the only thing that made us stay. God always helped one of us regain our sanity in time to forgive and go on. And when one forgives, the other becomes free to do so too.

We let go of our old ideas, and our new, sober behaviors with each other became habits that brought us back together time after time. I know for certain now that we will always survive, because forgiveness and mercy are part of our lives.