and told us the news -
the lumps weren't imaginary boogie men
the nightmare was real.
Surgery, it seemed,
went by quickly.
They went in,
poked, prodded,
groped and mauled,
and cleaned you out -
no more lumps,
no more nightmares
no more being afraid.
Hours, days,
weeks went by -
time seemed to slow
as we lay in wait -
the tests, they said,
will come back as soon as they're
done -
we all know that
we aged with each day -
trying to hold it together,
facing a potential grim reality-
is it back? did it go away?
chemo? no chemo?
will she lose her mom?
will I lose my grandma?
Phoenix,
how you destroyed yourself so
violently,
only to be reborn
within the ashes of your
own death.
A call.
Hushed whispers.
Chaos around me,
life whizzing by,
passers pushing through,
you called.
After all that work,
after all that stress,
after all the worry and wait,
after the poking and prodding,
you called the game -
the home team won.
Survivor,
you outwitted,
outplayed,
outlasted
those veritable lumps
of nightmarish cancer-flesh -
no longer afraid of your shadow
or of the dark -
Phoenix reborn,
you stood up to the stars
and conquered the darkest night -
Phoenix Reborn,
it's time to summit
the sun
rise.
No comments:
Post a Comment