Standing round her bedside concerned
My father, mother, her husband, adorned
In mandarin pants and a shirt that was worn
Untidy, half open and blatantly disheveled
Looking away to disguise his hurt
Beneath the cotton sheets she lay
Bandages white under scarlet negligee
Crying pitiful tears of remembrance and loss
The present unbearable, her future a toss
Of fancy and fate and fallacious delight
What she wants is a savior, unrelentless might
Riddled with cancer, reckless, ride
The mastectomy proved unreasonable, crude
Staring through mirrors, naked, removed
Eyes travel to her smoothness, bewildered
I cannot imagine her emotions, her feelings
This crisis, this concern, this condemnation, rash
She fell to her knees and prayed in a brash,
Rapsy voice, a deafening plea,
“What was my crime, Lord” Why now? Why me?”
He husband advanced and knelt like the sea
He enveloped her slowly, a gentle caress
As she weeped, weary, wasted, she knew she was blessed!|

Mike Greene
College of Nursing