Untold Horros of the Cancer Choke

There was an echo

within this place

of children

dying and crying

in hospital hallways,

their sobs rang through the rooms

of my head like

a fucking thunder.

Kind calm mamas

wipe her quiet tears

and dads sing her favorite lullabies

as the poor babe

tries to fall back to sleep

with IVs pump

chemicals

all the way up to

her red curls,

which she will also lose

in a weeks time.

I saw nurses

distracting boys

with train toys

while sleep starved parents

get more bad news

and wept in restrooms

so their kids wouldn’t see.

I must confess of doing

this as well

and became friends with the

bathroom stall wall

who wept with me

which I thought was very kind indeed.

I remember Jordan crying out to me in my sleep,

then waking up

in the middle of the night

with a start

and finding a text from him

in the many months after his diagnosis

telling me he was scared

and didn’t feel brave,

so I got up at

5 in the morning

and drove like a witch possessed

to walk and drink coffee with him

in the early morning frosts,

hearing his story,

his processing of death,

thus life too,

and we got sad together,

got angry together,

wept together

at this cancer that

didn’t hear us or care,

and even more so

for needing our father

taken from us before the cancer came calling.

The untold horrors of the

cancer choke

stick in my throat.

I cant,

just cant speak it out

like a crave to,

so I breathe,

just breathe baby,

breathe,

and smile on.