This larger-than-life Thing
A word my Mother would not say
And we couldn't say it either
If Mom was an earshot away
We tiptoed around the medicine bottles
Chemotherapy and radiation treatments
Vomiting, loss of appetite, weight and hair
To say "cancer," we didn't dare
My sister and I - unable
Unable to speak of how cancer was affecting us
Even in private, we couldn't defy her wish, as if ...
If we don't talk about it, "The Thing" would go away
BRCA1 roaming in the strands of our DNA
My Grandmother, Mother and Me
Three of mom's sisters and my grandmother's sisters too
The youngest lost to breast cancer at age thirty-two
"The Thing took another one."
I'd hear them say, followed by a prayer
The power of a word - to transform conversations
To transcend time and space, even to hold it stagnant
"The Thing" that permeates our consciousness and eats our bodies
This word. As if we didn't say it, it wouldn't find us
"The Thing," a boulder on my shoulder held in high esteem
I remember your last days
Gaunt. Listless. Unrecognizable - I cried and cried
This powerful, robust woman who raised me
Bedridden. Reduced to skin, bones and silence
And we still dare not utter the word
I don't want words to have power over me. None. Not any
I want to live label-free
- You, word, cannot shape me or tell me who I should be
If cancer claims me, please hold in your memory, when I was cancer-free
Cancer My Mom and Me
It feels like a betrayal to talk about cancer, to say the word. Isn’t that ridiculous? I make fun of many things, but this isn’t one of them. When I can joke about it, then I will know its influence is over.
© 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.
