The Silent Meal
Poetry on The Things We Can't Say Out Loud
Even forgotten, she remembers.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
The potatoes on a plate,
Crispy as you like them.
He no longer recalls asking.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
"How was work?" I ask.
He sees them and nods.
We both pretend you answered.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
You used to be a rock,
Solid, grounded, sturdy--
Reliable.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
Now, a sharp stone.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
Moss-covered.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
Painful.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
I silence the jabbing pain
Of the pricks
As you roll.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
The words that sting.
Your loud rage.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
Instead, I fry
Your potatoes.
Bake your bread.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
So I sit
With you
Waiting for you
To tell me
That you know me.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
You whisper a name--
Not mine.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
But I have
Your eyes.
Your love for the Rolling Stones.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
For these, I fry
Your potatoes,
Brew your coffee
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
And sit,
Waiting
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
With a
Quiet
Whisper
"Dad"--
For you
To hear.
π³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯πβπ₯π§π―π₯π§π§π₯ππ³π₯π
Original poem by Michelle Liew. AI tags are coincidental.
About the Creator
Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin
Hi, i am an English Language teacher cum freelance writer with a taste for pets, prose and poetry. When I'm not writing my heart out, I'm playing with my three dogs, Zorra, Cloudy and Snowball.
Keep reading
More stories from Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of usβ¦ my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the dayβs oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along β apace with a sloth β has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist ππͺΆa day ago in Petlife
Comments (8)
Beautifully written.
π
Well-wrought!
Beautiful sadness
Heartbreaking, brought tears to my eyes
A lovely and very real poem, thankyou for sharing xx
Oooo, this sure was emotional. Loved your poem!
I can really feel the pain of presence and absence at the same time here, it also made me a little hungry lol.