Writing Cancer

Here I sit Writing, not fighting, Being neither boxer nor soldier (No gloves, no weapon) I write cancer. Eleven months ago, Since the confirmation of cancer's return, The fear is gone, the panic too. And so, I write it now, Witnessing and in homage to All those around me here, So many the battered, bruised And brave ones On this Oncology Day Ward. We are, you see, A motley crew, Rough around the edges, Not at our prime or best: Some of us better, Others not, Here in this Holy Week, 2024. It makes sense here, Holy Week, On this bluesky Good Friday morning, The daffodils reminding us Of two days hence. Holy Week, 2024. Writing cancer.