You still have your father’s chess set. The rook is missing.
Does he miss it? Does he miss you?
The wooden pieces sit in your cupboard, unloved and seldom seen.
When things were good, you would often play together –
Though you never did quite manage to beat him.
In chess, as in life, he was always two steps ahead.
Ready to pull the rug out from under you and leave you vulnerable,
With nothing but pawns and crumbs of what little self-love
You had left, to defend you.
You used to say that one day you’d win,
But maybe winning, sometimes, means walking away.
Silence can sometimes be strength, and there is no shame in surrender,
If it is to protect your heart, as you would your Queen.
You still have your father’s chess set. The rook is missing.

Rook