Another day, my eyes open to see-
Mother praying, to and fro swaying,
“We have nothing left, every last penny drained,
Why was only our child with this fate preordained?”
In and around me, Death, looming,
Incomprehensible clinical terms, uttered, dooming
Is this what I was born for, I wonder
Why was this the battle I was chosen for, I ponder
I see my friends playing, going to school
The chemo in my veins, making me day by day, a ghoul.
Are you even listening to me, God?
Or am I screaming in pain
All In vain,
Being poked and prodded
Again and again–
They say the disease has returned
My heart drops, my insides churn.
I beg, please, this never ending lore,
I prefer silence over this, I have nothing left to be sore.
I want to run free and wild,
I have forgotten what it is like to be a child.
To my parents, I say, please don’t cry,
When the day comes that I finally find a place in the night sky.
They have grieved a thousand deaths for me before I die,
But I know they still lie–
“You mustn’t give up,
Fight, you must get up!
You have a long happy life ahead.”
I can only see a dark tunnel wretched.
‘Cancer’ is making me dream of cremations,
I died long before the complications.
It’s starting to feel like a competition
Between My mother’s faith
And death’s inviting embrace;
And I, failing even to make a decision.
The doctors try hard too,
Pump me with every possible drug they learnt in school.
People call me strong and brave,
I wonder if they’re lying or just naive.
Would it make me weak?
If I succumb to an illness that made me meek–
Torn between sticking around and giving up.
Even if I grow up will I ever thrive?
For most of my life, I have learnt to barely survive.
I looked towards the light inviting,
Gave it everything in me fighting,
Just let me go in peace, I think,
It hurts now, even to blink.
For this battle is far too long,
And I have other places to go to where I might better belong;
Maybe it has better prospects
Away from life’s poignant aspects,
I hope I find other fallen soldiers there,
So we can speak aloud, lay our woes bare.
Then all of us will play together,
Be happy, like we couldn’t here.
“Pray to God,”
“Only he can save your child,” they say
But is saving only living?
Isn’t God kind enough to end this suffering?
Edited by Radhikaa Sharma
Image by Gayatri
