This is the first poem I've written about having breast cancer since my diagnosis in Dec. 2007. I wanted to write one about cancer, and knew it was inside me (no pun intended....) It just took a while to work its way out. When you find out you have cancer, this complete and utter fear invades every part of you. I just kept wondering, "how big is it?", "where exactly is it?", "what shape is it?", "how fast is it growing?", and also wondered, "what color is cancer?" I feel this poem explains all the images I believed cancer to be.
The Color Of Cancer
If cancer had color,
would it be bright red with horror-
its heartless vines stretching
like fresh blood spatter on a wall?
Or maybe purple-
royally empowered with greed,
plundering poor cells and leaving no survivors?
Do I imagine it yellow-
oozing sickly jaundice,
while weakening the body, turning strength into stench?
Or possibly blue-
frosty and unfeeling,
like a cold I.V. slowly dripping icy fear?
I can picture it green-
sprouting spores of fresh fungus,
rapidly spreading poisonous polyps.
I once thought it black-
casting pure evil, cursing my soul,
a Salem witch hanging heavy on my heart.
But now know it’s white-
cut out with my breasts
cleansed free, I own breath,
my baptism of birth and a gift of my worth.
No comments:
Post a Comment