It’s hard to put a voice to you,
Or imagine what you’d say,
How you would explain the years,
You stayed away.
Would you tell me that you,
Thought of me every single day,
While you nurtured your new family,
So far away?
“I couldn’t stand the suffering,
Rejection from your mum,
So I found another woman,
Had another son,”
“Of course my love, I thought of you,
In secret from my kids and wife,
I just did what I had to do,
I had a new life,”
And would that be enough for me?
Would it replace all the years,
Of thinking one day I might see,
You through abandonment’s tears.
So although I try to listen,
to the words you never said;
I know I’ll never hear your voice,
Now you’re dead.
So I’ll get that notion out of my head,
And listen to the grandchildren;
The ones you never knew, instead.
Here’s what they said,
“I’m pretend, imaginary,
I’m the Princess, you are the King.
The kitchen is full of empty,
Nutella jars and broken dreams.”
Lisa Goodwin, April 2012