Breath Between Battles

As seasons change, I learn to let go,

I stand at the threshold of all I don’t know.

Last year, my body a battlefield,

Cancer’s dark shadow was revealed.

This year, remission—a fragile reprieve,

Yet still, so much I mourn, still so much to grieve.

My body feels heavy, the weight sinking in,

I emerged from the war, yet still feel it within.

How do I hold this joy, this breath,

When echoes of loss still whisper of death?

How do I claim the light of today,

When tomorrow feels stolen, slipping away?

I summon those who have been through the same,

Who walked through fire and through pain.

Their bones held grief, their hearts carried scars,

They carried on, sending their prayers to the stars.

Like breath, like blood and bone,

Joy and sorrow are never alone.

I sat in that room, heard “cancer-free,”

Felt relief and grief both anchor me.

The weight of healing, the cost of pain,

The sun still rises, despite the rain.

I do not know the path ahead,

But I have this breath, a reminder that I am not dead.

I have this moment, I have this fight,

I have resistance wrapped in light.

Joy is not escape, nor a simple choice,

It’s the whisper of hope in a weary voice.