Queen of Swords
she’s thriving, sound
she’s done the work
in leaps and bounds
“I will survive”
“I’m back on track”
mind and body
stronger
sorted, no longer
a queendom
under attack
yet, back in this city
Queen of Swords in reverse
still on mute
in pubs and crowded public spaces –
one old friend asked
“are you still grieving?”
“define grieving”, i say
another play-mate led with
“you need to re-start the dating”
me: “i never did date”
a new pal concluded, blindly stating
“you don’t look too old for mating”
“i am though”
they all call me single now
as if i am resettable, how?
flick a switch and I’m back to the start?
cancel the trauma, restart the heart?
unattached, unfettered, footloose, fancy-free
they don’t hear my fear
loud and clear, that
“something has ended”
so what’s not spoken of
can’t be defended
they don’t hear my sigh
“a part of me also died”
so what’s not heard
can swiftly be denied
they don’t hear my anguish
that “I might be broken”
that not every voice inside me
gets to be spoken
Queen of Swords, she speaks
silently, with eyes wide open