A Discovered Poem

Yesterday I was taking a stab at thinning out the clutter in the bedroom. We're always overloaded with books and journals and sketchbooks. As I began to toss out a notebook, a bit of my own handwriting caught my eye; a couple of pages of streams of consciousness dated two months after my radical prostatectomy in 2023.

Journaling for prostate cancer

For me, the emotional challenge was far more difficult to navigate than the physical ones. My best, and possibly healthiest, remedy was to write, write, write, no matter how nonsensical it way. Writing down my thoughts forces a certain honesty from me. I don't usually write to share. It's for me, for my healing.

A prostate cancer poem

This piece is one I would like to share because it turned out those couple of pages of thoughts kind of look like a poem to me. Here it is:

The words they won't 
Use are heavy. So heavy
That piled together
They will collapse under
Their weight, compress
Into a single, dark point
A malignant event horizon
That even light can't
Escape. Their euphemisms 
Disassembling my truth,
Pulling me into a realm where
Words don't follow any
Rules I've learned, crushing
Me so thoroughly, I am no
Longer recognizable, and no
Breath of the words or
Songs will ever be remembered.

And then what remains 
Of me, which is nothing,
Will be transported 
To the other side of 
Everything, faster than
Light. 

M.B. Morris