#437...Brave Goddess Warriors - Michele and Sharon

In honor of Breast Cancer Awarness month, I thought I would share with you some poems I wrote in memory of two of my good friends, Michele and Sharon - who both died too young, at age 38, of breast cancer.

Sharon found a small pea-sized lump - went for a Mammogram - and was told to wait and recheck it in six months.  Upon rechecking it they found spots on her lungs, liver, and brain.  She fought a vicious battle and lost her life to breast cancer three years later.  She left behind a husband and two small children.

Some of you might remember me talking about Michele a while back - She had fought breast cancer literally all of her childbearing years. She was considered to be in remission, having celebrated five years free of cancer. Just weeks after delivering her second child, a baby girl, and while nursing her with her one good, remaining breast - she felt pain in her left shoulder. 

Tests showed the cancer back - firmly imbedded in her bones.  She too, fought with every fiber of her being - and lost the battle two years later.  Two more small children were left behind.

Two mothers dead, four children motherless, two families destroyed, two friendships gone.

Michele, Sharon - I miss you. Every day, I miss you.

Ladies please. Check your breast regularly. Get your Mammograms yearly. Doing so is the singlemost effective way to give you the best advantage should you too, be called into battle.  About one in five of us will, you know.

 

brave goddess warriors  

I remember the luncheon
of Breast Cancer Survivors,
a celebration of collective battles,
a war rally
of the otherworldly kind.  

To the right of me, my sister
looking frightened and already tired
yet still cheering the tribal cries
with false bravado
at the prospect of now,
her second battle,
with the insidious and invisible Monster.  

This time,
she
was to be                                                                                      

The Chosen One -
in this room full of casualties and prisoners of war.

This time
it came back
for Her
unwilling to accept defeat
from this most worthy opponent,
who wore the pink ribbon
of Purple Heart and Medal of Honor.  

This time,
it came
to claim,
as it's decided rightful owner -      Her Life.  

No matter how tattered,
how weathered,         
               how maimed.

This time just for sport - and thrill of chase,
this savage cat chased this field mouse
in a game of cruelty
designed to deceive,
despair,
and destroy.  

And this time
she was not to slip through
it's claws
or parasitic rank fangs.  

No, this time
it would bite down hard -
and drink
her slowly,
more slowly
than even before  

- as payment for making it wait.    

 

That Bloated Dark Lord,
who waited in the shadows of her remission
who eyed her so quietly and carefully
until her fear was replaced with hope
and her hope was replaced
with security
at completing her five-year tour of duty.

That Mercy-less One,
was back to
obscenely rape
with unequalled stealth and determination -
      
That Evil One,
who attacks with
such silent precision
that shatters the worlds
beyond even its victim  

so
matter
of
factly...                                                                                    

And still she defied -                                                                         
and vowed the fight                                             
with dazzling otherworldly abilities

with courage                                                  
and convictions that surpass                                             
even the most seasoned, elite                                                      
soldiers of conventional wars.      

Yes, I remember the luncheon
that honored the breast cancer survivors.                                                       

Those Brave Goddess Warriors 
whose individual and combined strengths
know no bounds.

 

~2001floralilia