The days when I wonder what my purpose is
Are the days when I know I’m alive
It is cancer’s ghost which makes me see
My reality with wide-opened eyes
Awakened from my slumber deep
I question every thing I am
Every task which I have been sent to do
Since this hideous disease began
Both a blessing and a curse it is
Machiavellian is the cloth
It wraps itself and clings to me
Yet it be such an invisible swath
My garment worn mere months ago
Has all but disappeared
I wear its memory, just the same
Until my first cancer-free year
The tears, the smiles, the hopes and fears
Remind me where I’ve been
And shared with family and friends alike
Oh, the places I have seen
The depth of life I’ve sunk profoundly
What remains my purpose here on Earth?
Who is editing?
Indeed, the days, I wonder why
I live, I love, I pray?
It cancer’s cloth that reminds me to –
Make the most of every day.