The Daughter-Wife

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By misskelizabeth

Sat, 12 Jul 2025
  • 405 reads
17 comments
 

When she died,

The house fell quiet and wide,

And he looked at me like I should slide,

Right into the space where her shadow stayed,

A child in a woman’s role, afraid.

 

He said, “Life still goes on, okay?”

As if strength was setting the table each day,

Ironing his shirts, knowing what to cook

Learning my mother from memories look.

 

I held the grief, like a grown woman should,

While he sank into his chair made of silence and wood,

For once, he didn’t hit and he didn’t shout,

Just handed me her world without a doubt.

 

“you’re so much like her” he’d sometimes say,

Which meant don’t cry, keep life in array.

I ironed his grief with hands still small,

Pretending I didn’t need mothering at all.

 

I watched other kids laugh, run and revolt

While I was learning how to tighten bolts,

How to keep a man from falling apart,

With grocery lists and a breaking heart.

 

There was love, sure but love with a cost,

A childhood traded for all that was lost,

No room for tantrums, or dreams out loud

Only quiet pride that made him proud.

 

When I rebelled, he would yell

He told me get out the house,

"Go to hell".

I was kicked on the street at just 16 years old

Orphaned, not loved, truth be told.

 

And now I unlearn the woman I faked,

The meals, the comfort, the roles I faked.

Trying to find the girl I deferred,

Buried beneath his unspoken words.

 

I wasn’t his wife; I was only his kid.

But I carried the weight because no one else did.

And still, I rise from that silence today

To say: I deserved to be small, I deserved to play.

Certificate 15
Poem
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

what a wonderful poem, so moving - thank you! I particularly like this line:

I ironed his grief with hands still small,

 

Submitted by Turlough on

It's often incredible how we take on responsibility simply because nobody else is there to do it. Your poem contains powerful words that make the practical and emotional hardship that you went through really stand out, along with what you missed out on and what you can never get back.Well done in so many ways. 

Turlough

Submitted by sean mcnulty on

This is our Sunday Pick of the Day. Please share across your social media.

 

Submitted by misskelizabeth on

Thank-you so much, this means so much to me coming back to writing after 5 years and having achieved this in my first day just proves I am where I am suppose to be! I have shared this achievement throughout my socials.

 

Submitted by GlosKat on

Is this a true story for you, Misskelizabeth ?  If it is a true story then you are incredibly brave, and I'm so pleased you've come out the other side fighting for your retrospective right to have been a child.   

Either way, it's an eloquent, beautiful, haunting and heartbreaking poem.

 

Submitted by misskelizabeth on

Thank you so much, I appreciate that. It is indeed a true story from my childhood, so much trauma but without it I definitely wouldn't have been the writer I am today.

 

Submitted by misskelizabeth on

Thank you so much, I appreciate that. It is indeed a true story from my childhood, so much trauma but without it I definitely wouldn't have been the writer I am today.

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

You make "Life still goes on" so ominous! Sometimes thoughts, happenings, need time's distance to see what was going on clearly, for great descriptions to wrap round deeply hurtful experiences, objectify them. Your poem is wonderful, telling a story, explaining a character, making me hope that happiness is no longer "deferred" but within reach now

 

Submitted by Linda Wigzell Cress on

Brilliant my goddaughter. Proud of you as I am sure your Mum is wherever she may be xxx

 

Linda

Submitted by Jane Hyphen on

This is very sad, the story of a lost childhood but worse than that, grief never allowed to be expressed and your value reduced to domestic duty. How lonely this must have been. I wonder how many kids go through similar experiences. Writing will help set you free.

 

Submitted by misskelizabeth on

This was a very sad and lonely time of my childhood and I believe this is more common then we think but definitely doesn't make it right. My heart goes out for all those children and I can only hope they find something like writing themselves to heal.

 

Submitted by Nolan on

Very sad, terrible, and very common in Africa especially with the Aids pandemic these days, children have to work to look after younger kids, little brothers and sisters and adults not able to work anymore. Parents bedridden and dying. Other disease And famine. These are realities.

There are commonly households even whole villages where children are the only labour.

All the best & love! Nolan

 

Submitted by misskelizabeth on

This is incredibly sad, so much teenage pregnancy there too which is something I can relate to. One day I can only hope I am able to go out there and make a difference and help these villages. If my pain is anything to go by then they need all the love and support we can give. 
 

thank you for this, sometimes we get so wrapped up within ourselves we forget other peoples suffering. 

 

Submitted by Nolan on

Come back! Baby come back!

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

Nolan, I'm so sorry but we can't have song lyrics used on our site due to copyright issues. You can use the title and one or two words. Please delete the rest of your comment within our 24 hour takedown timeframe. Thank you!

 

Submitted by Frances Macaula... on

misskelizabeth, I can only echo so many comments above.  This is a very powerful and poignant illustration of the lives of many.  Your writing does you proud.  Keep going. Congratulations on the Golden Cherries, much deserved too. 

Soundcloud:  https://soundcloud.com/search?q=FrancesMF

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

This is our Poem of the Week - Congratulations!