The Big C

She was the mother of my kids. Her body perfectly hid. That awful secret That thing you did not want to hear or expect The disease had no respect For a young and vibrant lady I sat and puzzled maybe? There was something we could do To make the outcome new And different Perhaps time could have been spent In a more productive relationship My daughters were mere slips Of whom they are now The fatted cow Led screaming to a placed that she did not belong I tried to infiltrate her mind to make her strong But cancer has no boundaries It seeks beyond creed, color, and orientation Crosses old and young with the same vigor It has no clock that has to be adhered to The mere mention of its ugly name Delivers anger, resentment, and shame In hospital how bare was the room How dark the sky without its moon How strange the things remembered How uniform the beds numbered. And yet so vague are the thoughts Recollections that ought To be paramount in ones mind Confused and twisted in a bind It was ever so quick No time to be really sick Just time to die And many years to ask why Why Heather