The fight

The sign

It’s like a screen held six inches from my eyes
….the size of a human hand
The sign says “Your sister’s dying”

Meanwhile life goes on only in my peripheral vision
Occasionally my name is mentioned and I respond
Trying to pretend that all is normal

I am trying my best not to believe
this obscene sign with its obscene words
I am trying to negotiate a reprieve

“Importance” has taken on a new perspective
“Impotence” is what I feel
Meanwhile the world turns as “normal”

I don’t believe that “normal” will ever exist
Unless we find cure to the monster
That lies within my sister’s belly

When we discuss it we both know what’s at stake
But the words we use are positive, reassuring
I just hope we are strong enough for the fight



Thursday December 12, 2002