How to speak of cancer with eloquence,
with calm resolve, early panic turned mellow?
Realize it’s not your fault. It’s simply chance.
Stop with the guesswork, that mad mental dance:
If I’d not smoked, not chased that last thrill, no
way thus to speak of cancer with eloquence.
Lucky this time, the cells’ wild prance
caught early before crazed rampant billow.
Remember—it’s not your fault. It’s simply chance.
Surgery’s over, stitches sealing work of lance.
Rest against your own bed’s pillow, much
easier now to speak of cancer with eloquence.
One day soon your family romance
through normal ups and downs again will flow.
Realize cancer’s not your fault. It’s simply chance.
I know—once scarred you’ll always cast a backward glance,
fear a return, what some damn test will show.
But you’ve learned to speak of cancer with eloquence,
earned your wisdom—it’s simply chance.
