Poetry

Sometimes, there’s no easy way to say ‘I’m sorry for what I said’

Having accidentally caused offence to a lifelong friend, poet and artist Frieda Hughes feels compelled to write a note of apology, but can’t find the words. Will a painting do, instead?

Friday 12 April 2024 14:47 BST
Put down the pen and pick up a paintbrush
Put down the pen and pick up a paintbrush (Frieda Hughes)

The Apology Poem

For two days now I have been constructing a letter of apology

That I cannot get right; an offended phone call

From a friend I’d felt as close to as family described

Her nine-month-old anger to which she now gave birth.

It was for something I’d said that had festered since then.

I apologised once, and now I am apologising again

For the offence that she has taken where none was meant.

I should not have asked the mother of the groom

About timings for the end of the wedding day.

Our friendship of a lifetime could not excuse

My need to organise both ends of my journey,

Because, although I live so many miles away,

There was no pre-booked cab to a nearby hotel

For late-night drinks with disassembling guests before bed,

Only a long drive home through strange counties past midnight

For husky-care and fifteen owls.

I’d simply been organising my imaginary crampons

To climb metaphorical mountains in order to be there and celebrate.

I paint ‘Offence Taken Where None Was Meant’ and remember

What I’d not understood on the day.

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