Dear Cancer, You Left Shattered Pieces of Glass

Hello old friend,

You stole a piece of my identity. You stripped me from my truth. You fought me with spite. You kicked me when I was down. You grew big as I grew small. You laughed as I cried. You lived while I was dying. You were strong when I was weak. You were satisfied when I was starving. You battled with an army of soldiers while I stood alone in fear. You didn’t care about tomorrow while I only dreamt of tomorrow. You spread your wings freely while my hands were shackled in imprisonment. You grew your roots deeper while my leaves turned brown. When you were winning, I was losing.

When you finally left, I was lost. Of course, I never wanted you to come back, but I also didn’t know how to live without you anymore. How to pick up the shattered pieces of glass you left behind. You stormed out, leaving your mess for me to clean up. Suddenly, you were all I knew. Again, I was alone. I began picking up one piece of broken glass at a time. Each shard cut me and left me with a scar. I gently handled each piece and molded it back together. It isn’t perfect. It isn’t pretty. It isn’t sturdy. It isn’t the same….yet It’s so much more. This piece is transformative. It has endurance. It has resilience. It has will. It has presence. It has hope. It has honesty. It has magic. It has patience. It has humility. It has wisdom. It has heart. It has everything it needs. I HAVE ME.

A me that finds the ease in the effort. The softness in the strength. The grace in the grit. The gratitude in the freedom. The peace in the fight. The faith in the fear. The breath of life in the present moment.

Unapologetically,

Me

To read this letter and the other letters to cancer, click here to read and download the June 2021 Magazine