Postscript: Cordelia

That one thing she never quite understood -
Why must she express it ever so loudly?
Was it doubt that brought him to ask of such,
Or was it merely him, wanting to hear the words
that she assumed need no longer be spoken?

For at the end of the story, ’twas she
Who remained faithfully by his side,
Proving that in her inability to find words
Is her ability to express in clear actions.
Yet it bothers her so - even at the very end,
When he held her like a child, asleep in his arms,
Eternally dreaming of days that were and will be,
That one question remained on her mind,
Nagging, nibbling at her mind’s corners: Why?

For he had banished her, penniless,
Without her honor and a decent future -
If not for her king, who took her in her desolate state,
admiring her strength and grace and honesty.
He had banished her: yet when he came to her
She welcomed him, and showed him that love,
the love he once wanted to hear from her.
This she did without regret, but she did
with but one question: Why ask such a thing?

For love, love - true love needs no words:
Like all great things, it need not be spoken.
But if he, who all his life she had loved,
Who received all her devotion to the end
When she finally rested in his arms, forever asleep,
did not know of this great love for certain, then
Of what use is it to love him as much,
and of what use is her love to him?
That one thing she never quite understood: Why.