Say All, Say Nowt
She told him the truth by morning light,
her hands wide open, her face plain bright
She never held back what could be said
words spilled daily beside the bread
Say all, said she, what’s life to hide
our thoughts are steps we walk beside
Each laugh, each fear, each passing ache
why build a wall we’ll never break
Nowt to say, said he with a nod
his silence stood like a man with God
He carried his stories tight in his chest
left unsaid what he thought was best
She danced in questions, light on her feet
he watched in quiet from his steady seat
She cracked her heart for him to see
he blinked, then boiled his cup of tea
Say all, said she, with eyes gone red
no secrets lying in our bed
Nowt, said he, then turned to go
as if too much would let her know
Years came soft, and years came hard
she grew tired of playing bard
She poured and poured till the glass stood dry
he held his peace as the hours slid by
Still married, aye, with rings well worn
but one gave life, and one was sworn
She wrote her love with every breath
he carved it quiet, even in death
They buried him with a book unopened
no titles shown, no pages broken
Say all, said she, above his grave
and left the word he never gave — love
She wore black not for show or pride
but for the talk that never arrived
The words he hoarded, locked and deep
still sat with her when she tried to sleep
The house stayed still, the chair untouched
his coat still hung where he left it clutched
She’d speak to him in morning air
but silence answered from the chair
Her voice grew hoarse, her hands grew thin
yet she held the world he kept within
She told his stories, guessed the rest
said what she thought he’d never confessed
Neighbours came with casseroles warm
She thanked them kindly, rode the storm
No wailing fits, no widow’s scream
just quiet steps through every dream
Say all, said she, to walls and floors
to empty cups and half-closed doors
He said nowt, but left her all
a house, a coat, a name to call
And love, though late, in her own way
she spoke for him, she made it stay
A word he never dared to show
but still she said it, soft and low
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Rachel Reviews: The Spiral Archive by Pieter Hendrik
It's difficult for me to know where to start with a review of this book as it was, for me, an entirely unique experience and one that I'll probably never have again. I don't want that to be interpreted as unenjoyable but it has left me scratching my head a little and ruminating on its content, its themes and its characters.
By Rachel Deeming4 days ago in BookClub
Comments (1)
Sounds just like a marriage- women talk, but at the end of it all - " but left her all a house, a coat, a name to call And love, though late, in her own way she spoke for him, she made it stay" Nicely done, Maire