Husband told me that he didn't think marriage should stifle my writing and then he saw my face and heard my heart and he began to understand what I am beginning to understand.

That I found my voice when I cried to the world I left from the desert world and that it was my voice that kept me from disappearing altogether into a wild and beautiful and awful time that stripped my soul of excess and left me changing.

And that maybe with a little time and with a little more resting.  Maybe after I break further and come into myself again, I will lose this bewildering silence and I will, maybe, find the voice for this time because it is different now, isn't it.  It is very different and I am floored by the difference- the hesitation, the great need to protect him and us and this marriage we are making and the voice that can do all of that and still say something is born slowly.

I am struck by a fierce, primal need to preserve what we are and it is a drive that surprises me in its fury.  I am fighting to stay his.  I am fighting to survive love.  I am fighting to be ezer.  I am sending Him the same pleas one after the other after the other after the other Help me to see him.  Make me lose myself, more.  Help me to love him, more.  More, please.

Husband understood and asked me how I was doing.
I miss it.
I miss it too.

and I welled up.

It was the smallest, most necessary conversation and inside a larger one whispers.