Cancer Eats
Amberosia Persinger
My father is strong.
He lifts me into his arms,
Spins me around, laughing.
But then he falters—
Cancer eats... silently.
My father works hard.
He wakes up early,
Heads to work in the mountains.
But now, it takes him longer.
Cancer eats... slowly.
My father fixes everything.
He opens the hood of the car,
Holds it up with steady hands.
But now, he says it feels heavy.
Cancer eats... his strength.
My father gets sick.
He coughs, again and again,
Holds his sides in pain.
But he swears it’s just a cold.
Cancer eats... hidden in the dark.
My father goes to the hospital.
He hates hospitals.
He hates doctors.
But now, he wants answers.
Cancer eats... now revealed.
My father accepts treatment.
He asks for my help,
Leans on me now.
But he doesn’t see it’s breaking me.
Cancer eats... my heart.
My father cries.
He tells me he needs surgery,
Holds me tightly,
Trying not to show his fear.
Cancer eats... his hope.
My father lives.
He sits in his hospital bed,
Hugs me tightly.
But whispers, "It’s not gone."
Cancer eats... my hope.
My father holds me.
His arms wrap around me,
Squeezing lovingly.
But this hug is different.
Cancer eats...without remorse.
My father makes promises.
He swears he’ll watch me walk,
Be there when I graduate.
But I can feel these promises are hollow.
Cancer eats... all certainty.
My father forgets.
He calls out a name,
But it’s not mine.
Yet I know he loves me.
Cancer eats... his memories.
My father lies still.
I remember saying goodnight,
I remember saying "I love you."
But I never agreed to let him go.
Cancer eats... till its full.
-
Author:
Amberlynn (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2024 09:51
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this back in my senior year of high school. Now I am a junior in college and have revised it to flow more evenly, rather than spews of my erratic flow of emotions during the loss of my father. To me, this poem is a way for me to convey my emotions throughout my experience without having to impose my burden on others. It was a healthy outlet for my emotions. Attached is the song played at his funeral.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Pappy155, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Excellent
You have captured a fundamental truth; cancer is the scourge of humanity. My Dad, like yours, was as fine a man as they come; his reward was a long painful death.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.