Cancer Drains, Love Remains
©2024 Susan Noyes Anderson
Getty images GptOZO on Unsplash
A quiet room, a sterile room,
cold womb for the unwilling.
I sat there feeling quite alone,
my cup of sorrow filling.
Infusion done, injection coming,
body not my own,
I urged surrender and acceptance
into every bone.
Alas, my stubborn skeleton
refused to bend for me.
Humility felt far away
and hope too blind to see.
Glancing up, my eyes lit softly
on a harp in gentle hands.
The owner’s face leaned gentle, too –
soft smile of one who understands.
She sat down on a folding chair,
put on a mask, began to play.
Her first note flew into my chest –
an ounce of sorrow slipped away.
An ounce of fear, an ounce of grief,
an ounce of anger left my heart,
an ounce of finding no relief.
I felt my weak – my small – depart.
And oh, the tears (sweet tears) went with them,
trickled down to breach my mask,
flowed into my aching spaces,
filled me like an empty cask.
Until – untethered to the dock,
needle out and bandage placed,
I moved to greet her, let her see
each grateful tear upon my face.
I thanked her with a broken voice,
touched her shoulder, caught her gaze.
Our eyes welled up and we were sisters,
bound by a Father’s tender ways.
It wasn’t just the music,
although grace-notes rose in sacred strains.
It was the love that conjured it,
and still – so still – that love remains.
∞∞∞
If this poem resonated with you, you might also relate to Say Oncology, Chemo: A Walk into the Jungle, and Flight to Freedom.
Tags: cancer, cancer treatment, chemo, fighting cancer, grief, harp, harpist, healing music, illness, isolation, neupogen, neutropenia, oncology, pancreatic cancer, sickness
