Wedding poem

My friends asked me to write something to be read at their nuptials. No pressure.

Hey people,

My friends Penn and Erin got married last week in the Sierras. Tana and I flew out for a gorgeous dive into the glories of that place, the mountains, the rivers. We camped. No regrets, ’cause it was beautiful and we had little fires every sunrise and sunset…but I’m not sure we’ll be roughing it for a wedding again any time soon, as fun as it was bathing in the Little Truckee River (and at the Bryans’ Airbnb on wedding day, thanks again, Nancy and Jim).

This past spring, the bride and groom asked me to write something to be read during the ceremony. I wrote a first draft, we had a couple rounds of collaborative feedback, and we ended up with this little gem below. I wasn’t planning on sharing it, but after a show-stealing delivery of the poem by Erin’s aunt Mary, a few friends asked to see it, so I’m making a little home for it here, with the permission of the newlyweds.

As always, thanks for reading.

Cheers,

Andrew

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Blame the mountains.

They were the ones who did it,

who brought you together.

They were the mirror that reflected your majesty back to you,

made you realize what you were looking at

when you looked at her,

at him.

Their vastness was the only thing that could possibly equal your love.

Speaking of vastness,

we can blame the ocean, too.

Her murmurings. Her mysteries.

Her power.

It was she who reminded you

that although you choose each other,

you have no choice here,

that there are forces far beyond our knowing that

bring us together and take us apart like the tides.

Thanks a lot, ocean.

And you know what, while we're at it,

let’s blame the desert, too.

To go into the desert together.

To survive it.

Now you know this man will ride with you into the heat.

You’ve learned this woman is one who will show you the ways of beauty

in what seems a hell at first glance.

There will be more deserts to come.

Deserts you were made to cross together.

And let's not forget the city.

Ah, San Francisco, it had to be you.

The flowers in your hair.

The fog.

You are the frontier,

the dream that has always called us beyond our known world.

They believed your promise.

Look at them now.

Blame the whole universe.

These two were meant to be.

And so they are,

with the mountains as your witness,

and the ocean,

and the desert,

and the good ole’ city by the bay

and all of us here today

gathered for you,

may you now become

who you’ve really been from Day One:

husband and wife,

together for life.