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By Terry Gibson | Category :: Poem

The day we met,
class was starting
and I faced you, sat
opposite you in circle.
You were not shy about
showing people, you said.
Still, you weren’t
speaking to me and
I had not ventured
out into the world
since my brother died.
I was shy, nervous,
my balance jarred with
every smile, name and
conversation. When I
unexpectedly saw the scar
left by surgeons who removed
your left breast to cancer,
I was taken aback, not
because I was repelled by what
I saw or thought it wrong to
show it, not in the least.
It was only because I found
you to be so startlingly
poised in Your Self
resolved, strong,
as are all women
who must give up
a part of their being
to go on; it’s like
when children grow
up and move out,
necessity dictates that
Moms adapt and face a
new reflection, a new ‘normal.’
For you, like them, are ever
so lovely in your truth,
splendour raw and grist
fresh from your hard-fought
battle for life and love –
the intricate weave with which
we all dress, all that are gentled
by a lingering kiss of colour and breath.

Terry Gibson, December 2012.

By Terry Gibson | Jun 15, 2014 | Category > Poem >Friendship | Comments | Views 2220


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