Risking Love

On memory, family, and the things we couldn't say

Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

Sometimes I find myself writing something that I’m sure I’ll never share.

This poem is one of those.

I wrote it as part of an invitation to write on the theme of ‘Games’ in my local poetry group.

Initially I didn’t have a clear idea of what I might write on this theme. But then it dawned on me that my family were inveterate game players when I was growing up. And nowhere was more at the heart of this than in the small Suffolk village where we spent a lot of holiday time in my teenage years.

Going back in my memory to those evenings when we’d congregate around the chestnut brown coffee table for yet another card game, I tried to dig deeper into the memories; to bring something up that felt resonant to write about.

For many of his adult years, my eldest brother has had to deal with the ups and downs of mental illness and as a family we’ve each endeavoured in our own way to come to terms with it. What was particularly hard was that there wasn’t the language or the awareness around mental health back in those days (I’m writing about 1970’s England) and as a family we didn’t make the time or space to talk about it.

And then one memory of this unspokeness surfaced. It was about a long board game of Risk - one that took days to play through, and my brother’s impulsive reaction to losing. I felt that in resurrecting this memory there could be some kind of attempt to come to terms with both the past but also help to process the subsequent years of struggles.

If you’ve struggled with any mental illness yourself or in your family or friendships, I hope you find something in these words that resonates.

I usually sign off with ‘Enjoy’ but today I’m signing off just as me.

Risk. Love.

One shake of five dice, I risked it all - 
Moving my green plastic army to Irkutsk 
Across the barren wastelands of Siberia 
On a Suffolk winter’s night, where 

Lit up by firelight, four siblings fought 
Quietly for dominance, all eyes on the board,
The world stretched out, ready to be taken;
Our teenage pride at stake, nothing less. 

It was then that you disturbed the calm
Dear brother - no inner peace for you - 
As losing, enraged by some unseen demon,
You turned the board upside down, viciously.

Our raised shouts, dismayed at two days’ play
Ruined, did little to calm your screams then
And have done little since to soothe
The scars of childhoods lost in mental anguish

That over decades in clinical psych wards
We tried to solve, as so many injections, 
Straitjackets, locked doors, took you away from us
To a world we couldn’t reach, not then, not now.

I wish I could have loved you better 
Somehow turning time back to that night 
To risk speaking up for that hurt part of you
To have held your trembling frame in mine

And given it the peace it so clearly sought
So often unheld, crying out for attention,
And let you win.  Given you my pieces. 
Win that battle.  Take my love instead.



© Adam Woods June 2026

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