Beyond Your Grip

Dear Cancer,

You showed up like a thief, but worse
a thief takes what they want and leaves.
You moved in, uninvited,
rewriting my story in ink I never chose.

You didn’t care that I was young.
That I was 33.
That I was a mother of four children
who still needed their mama’s arms,
her voice, her steady presence.
You didn’t care.

You came swinging..
for my hair, my breasts, my womb,
for my confidence, my reflection, my peace.
Your grip held fast, tearing me down until even I could not recognize my own reflection.

But while you were busy tearing me apart,
something else was happening.
Something you could not predict.
Love hardened into armor.
Rage welded itself into my bones.
Hope rooted itself deep where you
could never touch it.

Yes, you scarred me.
Yes, you took things I will never get back.
But you did not take me.

I am still here..
and every laugh that slips from my lips,
every breath that fills my lungs,
every hug that wraps my children in warmth,
is a defiance.
Is a rebellion.
Is me saying, loudly and unapologetically,
You do not win.

You may always be a part of my story,
but you are not the author of it.
I am.

And I am still writing.

Sincerely,
The woman you didn’t destroy