Featured Poem of the Month

This is my friend Jessica. We've been friends for 24 years.


She has always been there for me.  For anything.  Always.  Even though she moved up to San Francisco over 10 years ago.  Our friendship has never skipped a beat.

This is Jessica with her husband, Ross. They got married last July.

With the wedding planning under way, Jessica asked me to do something that both excited and frightened me at the same time.  To write something to read at her wedding.  

I was honored.  

So I had to get over my fears and man-up, so to speak.  

I wanted to write something that was special and unique to their relationship.  The challenge was that I lived over 300 miles away, and had only met her fiance a handful of times. I didn't want it to be generic or cliche, the typical  "love is sweet, love is kind..."  kind of poem. 

I wanted it to hit straight to the heart. I wanted to make the bride and groom think,Yes, that's us.  That is our love, our life.  

Here is a little back story:  Ross is an avid cyclist and participates on a cycling team called Metromint.  Jessica is a devoted girlfriend, now wife, who would attend his races in the wee chilly hours of the weekend morning.  She is also a law librarian, and an ardent reader.  

The subject matter was to be a surprise for the groom.  

Surprise!! 

So with the help of numerous phone calls to Jessica for relationship research. . .

I found a truth that was worth sharing. 

[design by: Gaelyn Jenkins]

The reading started a little something like this: 

"Love and marriage is about commitment, not only to each other, but to each other's hobbies.  This is a poem I wrote for Jessica and Ross in honor of just that."  

At the Road Race

For Ross & Jessica 

(07.31.10)

Cold and patient.

She waits

for him

to line up

at the start.

She tells him to stretch

but he never does—

there is no stretch

like Hatebreed,

his favorite warm up band.

He steals a quick kiss,

clicks in

and glides away

into the peloton,

a kaleidoscope

of color—

spandex, rubber and metal.

Although the cyclists were many,

There was really only one.

Mile forty-five.

She waits

in the feed zone

water in one hand

and a good book

in the other—

she has ways to help

the time pass . . .

Waiting

for the moment

when he bends

around that corner

peeks above that hill,

burning at the crest,

his first wind waning.

He glazes over the

dirge of blank faces, an army

poised with hydrates,

goo and Gatorade. 

He searches for her,

both left and right

then finally,

relief —

his eyes

meeting her eyes.

Although the faces were many

there was really only one.

She reaches out

to him

and he to her

and in a split second

they connect—

it’s a relay of sorts,

bottle to hand,

hand to bottle.

He holds it close

at first

then draws it in,

sweat poised at his brow.

He glides away

and she cheers to him,

but he cannot hear her

the wind breaking

against his helmet—

he knows what she said.

Although the cheers were many,

there was really only one.

Newly recharged

both mind and body,

she of him

and he of her.

He picks up speed,

his rhythm in cadence

with the pulse

of her heart.

Next stop,

the finish line.

This time she’s

armed with a kiss,

waiting for when

he will stop—

click out

and hydrate

both water and love,

body and lips.

Although the emotions were many

there was really only one.

Poem By: Aimee Mandala, © 2010

July 31st, 2010

©2010 by Bryan Derballa