Her mouth
Had a tremor
Just beneath the surface
It spoke
Of the repression of horror
If she let it out
That creature would
Climb to the highest point
And start screaming, needful not of words.
She wrapped her arms around her chest
Feeling the absence of one breast
Her mom used to say
You forgot to grow into a woman, flat chested sparrow chick
Her boyfriend liked her angularity
It’s not very Latino, her sister decried
Shaking her own ample swelling bossom
She favored simple necklines and no bra, catching soft balls with callused hand
Then why she wondered
Did my breast betray me?
I never demanded anything of her
My children did not
Tug with hungry mouths on her unduly
Nor a lover, bite unkindly deep
She felt the tight, smooth scar
Like a flat knife lain on her chest, like unwanted medal
It seemed to hotly whisper
The curling, metal irony of us all
Without sufficient power to stave
Fate’s random cruelty
(For all women)
So many women in my extended family and friends have felt this urge to scream at the horror they endured although some did not endure at all. Thank you for remembering them and all those women who know first hand what that pink ribbon really represents.
My pleasure. A very good person I know was recently stricken. I feel so much. It is an epidemic. Something must change but we need unbias research. Komen’s research is funded by drug companies, we need research that is unbiased and not based on developing drugs for profit. We need cures. 💓 thanks for reading.
Totally agree. Oh, what we could achieve with humanity as our basis instead of profit.
I’m thinking of a friend I saw go through that loss.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – a poem of a particular loss too many women know
Your poem directly stabbed my heart, a beautiful ode, to all our loved ones who’ve suffered , won their battle, and sadly others who we’ve lost.
Oh man. Damn. Well done.
This is most powerful, Candice – thank you for writing it. 💕
So heartfelt,
Betrayal by our bodies! Hard to say which is worse, betrayal by friend(s) and/or family or our own bodies??? Not that it matters for one never sees either coming nor does it make the sense of loss and anguish any less. Je t’aime, N 🙂 <3
I have been going 17 yrs now and am currently running my arse off raising funds again selling my crafts. for CRUK. I always hope cures will prevail over profits and greed. Love your work.
❤️❤️❤️
Just because a woman had a mastectomy, that doesn’t make her less of a woman than before, it just takes some time for the person who’d undergone this surgical lifesaving measure to realize…
I can’t begin to imagine the complexity of this
This is excellent. And sensitive
The complexity of things in life that seek to define us and our constant struggle to find our own truth. <3
That is such a barbaric looking image to go with this poem. But then, chopping breasts off is. One day, there will be kinder ways of dealing with this.
Beautifully told, harsh and frightening, painful and sorrowful. I have no words that can describe the complexity of loss better than you already have. <3
These words hit so close to home. As time passes, I have seen breast cancer strike old friends and distant female relatives, without warning or reason, like a snake coiled in the grass that bites the ankles of some but not others. It seems so cruel and unfair, and the rest of us watch helplessly as these brave women fight for life and grapple with losing their breasts. 🙁
Breasts are more than just fat.. they are tied deeply to feelings of femininity, in large part because of societal expectations… Excellent write.
<3