I did not stop writing but I swallowed each word whole
Without remark, buried where I could not read them
Or myself. I could not stop having feelings
But I hid them away- spirited far- speechless
They spoke anyway. I tried to die. I did not.

I can't blame you, or anybody specifically
but I was afraid of what I was made of.
The thing that was growing- it was me,
wildly me, wild anima. Whirling and warming,
I threatened to metastasize. But I did not.

I only swelled and grew and hurt, really tried hard
to find a window, to make space, and a home.
Terrified the author and editor- no one will buy this.
And so I killed that thing. I cut it out, and discarded it.
No one noticed. The parade moved on. I did not.

I hid like a wounded fox. I turned myself inside out
away from light, from sound, and love, and trust
I erased memories, wrote better endings, kept it easy
And this suited many, but never myself. Because
You can't actually **** what grows. I did not.

Your words left a crater
A crater that cannot not be filled
You were old
You were sick
You were dying
You were fighting
Fighting the battle you knew you would lose
And the words you last spoke.
The last words that your voice ever carried
The words you spoke with your last breath
The words you said in a whisper
They haunt me,
Yet they comfort me
        "You're special to me and I hope you know I love you dear"
You paused and looked out the hospital window
        "No matter where you are. I will be watching from the sky."
These were that last words you spoke
and they broke me
I want you back
But the reaper was there waiting for his chance to claim you.

if there is a god
somewhere far away
how does he
make these choices
how does he
take life from us
how does he
decide what is bad

if there is a god
somewhere far away
i hope he hears
my screams tonight
i hope he sees the hurt
in my chest

if there is a god
somewhere far away
how can he be so cruel

It slowly creeps in the shadows undetected
All the while everything on the surface seems fine
Even as the body fights it becomes subjected
To something sinister that at first seemed so benign

The fatal disease then spreads quickly without control
Destroying and consuming everything in its path
Even though warning signs may whisper it to the soul
The mind doesn’t want to realize it or do the math

The victim becomes brittle at the core, to the bone
Not realizing what it’s done until it’s too late
And all the medicine won’t help because they are prone
To the laws of nature and spirit as they lie in wait

In society the therapy for hate should be love
Compassion and empathy can be infused to endure
For in the final days those who ignored will not get rid of
The pain of wasted time when they could’ve found a cure

I went to the doctor,
with fright in my eyes.
She sat in her chair,
With a helpless sigh.

Cancer is in my bones,
and I have a year before I go.
I could drown in my cries,
or dissolve my sorrow in my fake smiles.

I walked down to a cliff,
and felt the crows fly,
felt the tides cry,
felt the sky die,
felt the breeze go by.

I reached home devoid of joy,
embraced my sweetheart as her tears fell with mine.
I slept that night,
yet didn't close my eyes,
afraid that my days are numbered,
and death is close by.

I spent everyday,
rejoicing my time.
And tried to make memories,
which would last after my demise.

I saw this world in a different light,
the glimpses of life caught my eye,
the dried leaves flying with the breeze,
the soft petals amidst the grief,
and an unknown voice croons into the midnight sky.

I wished that every moment lingered,
that Every second went slower,
that Every minute would shatter,
that Every hour would be brighter.

As the year is about to end,
I now lie in bed.
With a thought in my head,
That Cancer didn't let me live,
yet it taught me how to live.

For I leave earth,
without any regrets.
And i tell this world,
to live life to it's fullest.

We met three times
Over fifteen years.
The disagreement paled
In light of his diagnosis.

He unexpectedly appeared
At my door, then stood in my kitchen.
He had a few serious questions
About brotherly affections,
And after spitting into my sink
(the poor man)
He wondered if I thought less of him
For not sending cards at Christmas and birthdays.
Is that what he came to say?

Next was at our last family wedding.
He was still steady on his feet.
We were five Irish lads.
The sisters said he was the handsome one.
He was.
There are six of us posing in this final shot.
He's wearing a Lucille Ball tie,
Losened around his neck,
Yet covering the gill-like scar
Running from lobe to lobe.
His hands are buried deep
In his pants' pockets.
His smile says Good-bye.

I saw him for the last time
A few weeks later,
Standing, bent and coughing
At the intersedtion of the roadway and Nature Trail.
His rib cage raging from contortions.
He waved off an offered ride.
And then he was gone.
It took us years to get here.

Grief is difference since you
and maybe you arrived just when I
needed you to
Because of the people so precious who left when you'd only
just gotten here
When I wanted to drift up to the night sky
to that place in the stars
where my loss might resound til I lose myself in it completely
There was you.
There were your tiny pink hands
reaching for my body, your only home
Tethering me fast to the earth
So I held my mountains strong
and willed my oceans calm
and remained your safe world.
I miss them.
I miss them so much and
nothing makes sense
except this,
So I'll allow myself to be both there, and here,
and allow myself to be warmed by the joy of nurturing you,
my tiny love.
Because
Even though it hurts
Even though it hurts like a -mother-
Now I've got to hurt
Like a mother