Black Oak's Daughter

A friend, and fellow cancer survivor, posted this on Facebook yesterday:

The Cancer of Life…

I’ve frequently and painfully realized,
but seldom given it a deserved voice
there are many more forms of untreated cancers
than the ones they can treat right now.

Some are frequent yet subtle visitors
ignored beyond the hectic pace we keep
while others slap us back to cold realities
that we dread with all our limited being.

If I morbidly said, “the cancer is back
and it is no longer in remission”
such words might stop you in your tracks
and cause much concern and reflection.

But if I used the same voice
to cry aloud from the depths of my depression
how different the reactions would be…
but isn’t it a ravenous cancer like the others?

And what about the ravages of time…
Breadth and depth of negative thoughts…
Senseless barrage of mindless entertainment…
Erosion of harmonious family unity…
Rampant ignorance and apathy…
Rot of perpetual writer’s block…
Restless days and sleepless nights…
And the wanton waste of precious time?

My rambling list of cancers would grow ever longer,
a length that would spread beyond my weary arm
and even past my withered heights
regardless of how tiny a font I use.

Most are little more than nuisances by themselves
but together they steal away our joy, and love, and life.
Together they are the heinous cancerous growths
that cannot be removed by knife or chemo
but only by the shear will to not allow their existence
in the first place.

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