Thievery

In the darkness you lurk
Waiting to make your move
Embedding yourself
Into my everyday
You feed from my generosity
That of my inheritance

How do I, tell my girls
Who are too old to be nursed
Yet too young to be orphaned
That You, seek to remove 
Me from them

The notification of your identity
Has been made
Leaving me to chose
Between castration or death
Isn`t it the same, anyways
Now that I know
Your name...Breast Cancer  

(c) Debra M Martin

This poem, written 20 plus yrs ago does not reflect an illness that I have battled.

I had a scare back in my late twenties, requiring a stereotactic needle biopsy. I was fortunate as my maternal grandmother had a mastectomy when I was a preteen.

I used the whole of those memories to envision how I would feel if I were to receive such news.

✨Be the Light✨