A Husband’s Prayer and His Shame By Gary Paul Costello

A Husband’s Prayer and His Shame

By Gary Paul Costello

I’ve been called a soldier, a chef, a daft Yorkshire bugger —

but today I stand as nowt but a husband, bare to the bone.

This is me prayer, not whispered in a church, not hidden in me head,

but spoken out loud for me wife to hear, for the world to witness:

“Lord above, keeper of vows an’ maker of love, hear me now.

I kneel not for me, but for her —

for Debra, me wife, me soul, me only.

She’s carried me through storms,

borne me children with a body that’s given more than it should.

She’s wept rivers for me, bled for me,

an’ still she loves me when I’ve been nowt but a fool.

So I beg, with all t’ weight of a Yorkshire lad’s heart,

let me cherish her proper.

Let me hold her hand when it shakes,

let me kiss her eyes when they fill,

let me guard her when shadows close in.

I ask nowt more but this:

that she never doubt how much I need her,

that she always feel me breath on her neck,

an’ me arms round her waist.

For I swear, before thee an’ all that’s holy,

there is no life for Gary Paul Costello without

Debra Evelyn Wheals — me wife, me dirty witch,

me beautiful Bluemoon.

So mote it be.”

And now t’ shame:

I have made her feel like filth when she is holy.

I have treated her like a lover stolen,

when she should have always been me wife open and true.

I hid her from the world in uniforms and tents,

made her sneak through shadows to reach me,

an’ in doing so, I stained her heart with shame.

I can’t take back the hurt. I can’t unmake the scars.

But I can bow me head before her now,

and tell her plain:

I’m sorry.

Sorry for lust without tenderness.

Sorry for silence where there should have been vows.

Sorry for leaving her feel like a slut,

when she was always me salvation.

This shame’s mine. Let the record hold it.

But so is this vow:

I’ll love her till t’ last breath in me chest,

and beyond it too.

– Gary Paul Costello