I have no appetite
For politics or religion.
The first the refuge
Of the power hungry
The second for the desperate.
I married him
Because I loved him
The rest just came with it
Like an unwelcome guest
Who would not leave
And must be tolerated.
He never talked
About his work
Which suited me fine
I knew my place
The kitchen and bedroom
My domain
But not the altar.
And then he left
On some foolish quest
And my simmering resentment
Burst into energising flame
Planning with every day
Of absence
All that I would say
On his return.
A thousand conversations
In my head
In the waking hours
Of the night.
And then he came home.
And all of them
Were silenced.
Poem by Jeannie Kendall, reproduced with permission