The Widow Speaks - a performance piece (Poetry)

I don’t think I can squeeze another tear —
not one small drop —
exhaustion’s got me frozen up to here
but life won’t stop.
There’s all of his arrangements still to do
he wrote them plain —
instructions once the long ordeal was through
freed from his pain
and never thinking how it falls on me
left on my own
to get Death’s circus running perfectly
last wishes known
to each and every last particular —
what I should wear
(pedantic and an awful stickler)
from shoes to hair.

Now I’ve been sat here — vaguely wondering
since he’s been gone
I’ve not missed his peevish thundering
the scene’s moved on
and it has struck me I’m much calmer now —
nerve endings numb —
it could be I am just a heartless cow...
Release has come
as something of a blessing — and I’ve felt
no sense of guilt.
I always played the cards that I’d been dealt
my marriage built
upon shifting sands of compromise
romance long-sunk
I judged survival strategies were wise
when love proved junk.

Of all the forty years I spent with him
too few were fun
and our relationship grew strained — turned grim
so early on
whatever tender feelings we once shared
dissolved in mist
though each went on pretending we still cared
we never kissed.
Co-habiting — politely — icebox space
we passed the time
not looking at the other’s sober face.
Affection’s crime
spent long ago — forgotten — sin absolved
though scars might ache
my silence full of words as we grew old
for pity’s sake.

The future’s now a strange untrodden land
without his voice
determining direction — since unmanned
I’m given choice
and find my mind’s a twisting weather vane
unsure of South
I check the mournful sky for signs of rain
and set my mouth
in something like a smile — relax in hope
I will survive
this doldrum state — this barely-breathing mope
and come alive —
reject the widow’s coat that humps my back
half-smothers me
I shrug it off — sense duty’s ties go slack —
feel close to free.