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Words unspoken

You didn’t say, ‘I told you so’
you didn’t speak of blame,
you didn’t take me to the night
I chose not to know your name.
You didn’t touch the irony
that I, who’d sworn to die,
when gloves came off, when chips were down,
couldn’t look you in the eye.

You didn’t tell me how it felt
to be fingered with a kiss,
or to watch your close ones slip away
in the early morning mist.
You didn’t speak of your hands being bound,
of being mocked and poked and hurt,
you made no mention of the cruel whip,
of the spittle, blood and dirt.

You made no protest at the trial,
at the staged and twisted lies,
no rancour at the little powers
with their empty angry eyes.
You had no words for the city folk
whose Hosannas the tight streets had filled
who had changed their tune when the cold wind blew
and bayed for your blood to be spilled.


Nick Blundell 9-4-10
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