Reluctantly, I force myself
to stand before the mirror,
stripped of all artifice,
naked except for earrings.
Reminded of a warrior after many battles,
I note the scar stretching
from sternum to armpit,
fading now but marking
where once there was a breast.
I feel unbalanced, bereft,
but then I see the head,
eyes watchful,
able to enjoy color and form;
ears, somewhat large,
but able to hear bird-song and blues,
Beethoven and Brahms;
mouth, lopsided and quizzical,
but able to converse
and even sing a bit.
The top of the skull
is covered by wispy, graying hair.
Within it is a brain
with thoughts and emotions,
and most of all
the ability to enjoy,
to appreciate, and to love.
So I honor the gift of my Maker,
who made me in Her image,
and the gift of time
to enjoy Her creation a little longer.
© Peg Latham, 1993
Mrs. Prince, after surgical removal of a breast Watercolor of a woman operated on for breast cancer, 1841 from Wikimedia Commons via Wellcome Images |
1 comment:
What an absolutely beautiful and so very powerful poem.
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