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cancer. small c.

And on, goes this cancer journey.

Here, on this venue... my virtual

chapterbook of internal dialog,

of fears


Impulse words, flexible.



My evolution, free... of sequence.

My morning hours, unfocused

as I, a watcher... catch accents of silver snowclouds, breaching through backwood buds.

Like pale, haute smoke rolling fast,

casting silhouettes of winter's dead, iron branches.


Waiting to burst through time.

Waiting to feel.

Waiting... to live again.

Each and every dawn, I write a new refrain.

Yesterday, was P/T evaluation, checking for lymphedema. Stretched and measured, it was determined I don't have it... good news, indeed!

Left with scar tissue and swelling... still means it's back to the hospital, for a few more treatments.

I'm feeling less veered, better synced... and somewhat more centered

      since radiation ended.

A new headspace to live in. Can't be my former me. Redeveloping... an unknown version of self.

I've added daily mediation, to fight some old, broken patterns... should they plateau.

Intimate, these sentiments.

Here, I let them go.

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