Poetry

The Cancer Had Him

seeing demons
and I leaned over
his delirium
They were real things
to him
and me
whether morphine dreams
or other
My older brother
in sheer terror
A man made a wraith
by cancer
Trimmed to the weight
of a petite ballet dancer
on a six foot two frame
I carried him to
another room
and the demons –
they came too
There was nothing
I could do
so I prayed
Hey God,
take me
There’s blood on my hands
The dirty work of Uncle Sam
But whatever god there be
The I Am
by whatever name
didn’t see things the same
as me
and my brother was gone
within a week
These are the things that
inform the dramatic scenes
of this play
we call life

Categories: Poetry

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6 replies »

    • Uncle Sam is usually quicker. Then again, my brain is messed up and has been for over 30 years – a lot of hellish days. PTSD and some traumatic brain injury. My dad could only use one hand after being in Korea. Still, I think I would take it over cancer. Peace . . .

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Moving. This one got me. Cancer runs in my family. I have sarcoidosis and just learned yesterday to add diverticulitis to the list. But I’m never quitting. Your poetry is powerful. I’m thankful for Twitter where I learned of your gift. You’re epic, sir! We’re bards on a mission!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m sorry to hear of your health challenges, but inspired by your warrior spirit! Tomorrow I will learn the date for my own biopsy – prostate. I really haven’t given it much thought. Whatever the result, I intend to carry on with business as usual as much as possible. Thank you for all of your kind comments my fellow bard! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • I just saw this now. I’m heading to the doctor in an hour. A prostate biopsy? By all that is good within me, I send you positive thoughts and know that you are going to win!!! Carry on, my bard brother, knowing your quill is your hammer! You are a warrior as well!

        Liked by 1 person

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