Sometimes we would argue. We were confused; scared; waiting. After one foolish argument. I played it over in my head, adding thoughts and words so that it would intensify my pain. The chemotherapy played havoc with my brain.
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Of the unsuspecting couple
Accusations rampant as they spar:
"You said. . ."
"No, you said. . ."
Becomes the battle cry.
"You make me feel small."
"You don't really care if this cancer kills me or not."
"I don't like what you said."
"I don't like your attitude."
"I'm leaving."
"Go and take your ugly cancer-ridden body with you."
"But what will I do?"
"Maybe we should think this through."
Satan guffaws.
"He wants you dead."
"She wants to control you."
Lies. . .lies. . .lies.
Hush. Wait for the Holy Hush.
[The silence deafens the couple]
Love enters - a crimson cross reflects a sacrifice.
"Forgive them Father."
They embrace, pressing their hearts together.
The fiery darts fall to the ground -
Spent.
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4 comments:
I am kinda confused, what is this post about?
Hello "Anchor". Thanks for the comment! When I was going through my chemotherapy sometimes our emotions were on edge. This was a poem written in response to a silly argument my husband and I had one day. I confabulated in the moment for these were not the exact words. I blew the argument up in my own mind, thinking that this is how he felt about me. But then we prayed about it; got silent and then we were reminded about the Holy sacrifice we believe was made for all of us. Forgiveness, love and peace reigned. Perhaps not brilliant prose but it was my heart on that particular day. These are excerpts from my journalling as I travelled that road.
Hi Glynis,
Your friend Janet suggested I visit your blog! I also have ovarian cancer and while not in remission yet, I plan on kicking it to the curb. I've added you to my reading list.
Have a lovely week! :)
Hello Lynda. So honoured to meet you, my 'sister!' Let's connect. I peeked at your website. Glorious photography. Praying that you conquer this wretched cancer and that your good days far outweigh the stinky ones. Blessings, Lynda!
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