Poem written by Phillipa Ramsden, author of Feisty Blue Gecko.
[video]
By Sara K Boghdan
I used to live in the world
and then cancer came.
It took my breast and my trust
and left no one to blame.
I used to know who I was
and how I came to be.
I once could smile and could laugh
for all the world to see.
Fear of pain and death and strife
taunt me day by day.
They try to take and smash my heart
and tell me they will stay.
But now I know a secret truth
that fills me up with light.
I will not quit, I will not fall
I will rejoice and fight.
You see, I have my faith and friends
To cheer me up, to cheer me on.
I will live, celebrate, and love
until all hope and fight is gone.
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To read more about Sara, visit http://readypinkandable.blogspot.com.
[video]
By Barbara Monahan
She remains in her darkness.
Her focus on food and work are distractions from the real challenges.
And there are thoughts about how her body feels different.
What does it matter? Does anything matter?
Being with darkness, feeling the not feeling, questioning, listening, discovery. Continuous chiming among them.
She has no energy for it though. It is like her being belongs to another.
The power is out. The connection lost.
Darkness feels like an old warm blanket that keeps her safe.
It enables her to be inactive and hidden from the life force that calls her forward.
It is a cocoon she can easily call home and say ” not now, I need more time.”
Yet the unseen changes occur within.
Changes that connect her to her being in a new way.
A new view and path for her to take flight.
By Parvez Dara
It wasn’t right.
The air was clear,
The day was crisp,
The light, bright.
It wasn’t right.
The night was moonless,
The Wind was calm,
The stars shone bright.
It wasn’t right.
That plans were made,
The future was planned,
And the time just right.
It wasn’t right!
It wasn’t right!
It wasn’t right!
It wasn’t right!
But the day turned cold,
The night, black
And the cold winds blew,
The future changed.
It was small they said,
It was contained,
It was removable,
It would go.
Wish they are right.
Wish it were so,
Wish they told the truth,
As wishes go.
They say don’t smoke.
They say don’t drink.
They say don’t stress.
They say just live.
But oh in life,
Where meanings change,
And don’ts do
And dos don’t.
Confusions arise,
Pink gets color,
Green gets lesser,
While research suffers.
The suffering goes on.
Limited in time,
And pain lingers,
As dreams get shelved.
Now as cancer dies,
Life is reborn.
The past is the past,
Still entwines with today.
Memories linger
Of yesterdays,
And todays slip by
Into the past.
Now it is right,
The air is clear,
The day is crisp,
And the light is bright.
Now it is right.
The night is moonlit,
The wind is calm,
The stars are bright.
Now it is right.
That plans are made,
The future is planned,
And the time is right.
The day has warmed,
The night turns silver,
As warm breezes blow,
And the future turns bright.
It is right!
It is right!
It is right!
It is right!
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Poem by Parvez Dara, MD FACP. Medical Oncologist/Hematologist. Tweets as @JediPD and blogs on URL: http://jedismedicine.blogspot.com
This is Narrative Nipple, and she’s for you. A page to connect with others, to recognize your story, to learn about the journey, to contribute, to comment, to have a say and spark discussion. The online breast cancer community is supportive and strong, and now we have a platform (not counting all those wonderful blogs that are overflowing with heart-sourced content) for a different type of connection. A creative connection.
Narrative Nipple is about the journey - whatever moment you represent. And we’re all travelling a similar road. So please: Get reading. Get commenting. Get creative. Get involved.
And welcome to Narrative Nipple.
By Caroline Healy
Cancer suckles her breast,
His clawing digits knead her breast,
His eager tongue needs her breast,
His avid thirst unquenched,
As upon her knees she stands erect.
A haze of ash flecks her cheeks, upturned.
Suckling sucked suckered,
Her days numbered.
Upon her knees she rests, ashen flecked,
The bundle of detest swaddled near her breast,
His ravaging hunger unchecked,
His lips viced unmoving at her breast.
Smothered mother mothering,
Her days numbered.
On her knees, dejected,
The babe neglected, rejected breast.
Morning mourners mourn,
Her days numbered.
In the ground, protected.
Breast is best.
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I wrote this poem at the beginning of 2011 for a poetry competition. I was trying to think of a terribly sad situation to evoke a dark mood, so I chose to write about a disease which touches so many people’s lives.
I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have breast cancer, to personify the disease in a way that people could relate to. The image I chose was that of a babe, an infant, suckling from his mother. I used this image and the title for many reasons. The Babe, in popular culture could refer to a gorgeous woman, thus evoking the idea of a sexiness, with womanly curves. The use of the image of breast and feeding something, ties in with the notion of birth, children and in this instance, with parasitic diseases. For me, when I was writing this poem, I tried to get my head around the horror of having a disease like breast cancer.
The irony for me, in July 2011, I was diagnosed with stage 3 Breast Cancer. On reflection, I think before I had been to the clinic for that needle biopsy which changed my entire life, I feel in my heart of hearts, in a very small dark place, I had already a whisper of the disease.
I have had my mastectomy surgery and now await the start of my chemotherapy.
Having gone through my journey so far I would change that poem a thousand times over and make it more full of hope, support, strength and love. There is no denying that it has been a terrible experience so far for me, there is no denying that the disease leaves destruction in its wake, there is no denying that it unfairly touches the lives of so many people, but there is still laughter, family, friends, love, light and hope.
Caroline Healy lives in Northern Ireland and works in Community Arts; teaching dance, creative writing, theatre and art to people across the community. She is currently completing her MA in Creative Writing. She has her own blog, http://charliesbreastcancerblog.blogspot.com/ where she blogs about the trials and tribulations of living a life and dealing with cancer.