365 Poems – 136 Here To Die (Rough First Draft)

Here To Die

I am not cancer.

Though it likes

to control everything,

from my breasts to my bones.

 

Others here

are still in calm denial,

the ones who haven’t

labelled their box of tea bags.

 

I have this quiet acceptance

of what will be; before long

I’ll be elsewhere.

 

I’ve done hesitation.

There are no ‘why me’

days anymore. I am

embracing the next thing.

 

I know there are books I won’t finish.

Makeup that will get dry,

and cake the inside of the bottle.

 

I am lucky. I learnt to wonder, get involved.

I didn’t stray into life years too late,

or miss the magic of figuring it all out.

 

I was the one over there,

with the cigarette and map

 

I want death to come quietly

and not disturb me,

but who knows, maybe

I will love the darkness.

 

This poem is inspired by a brief article called ‘Always There’ which I read in the Sunday Times Magazine. The article features the words of those whose lives are, in one way or another, connected to The Hospice of St Francis. This poem is from the viewpoint of a cancer patient, living out her last days.

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