M=Mom for ABC Wednesday

Four years ago my mom had cancer. It was a lymphoma that presented itself in her thyroid. They operated and she, surprising her doctors, survived. I spent part of my summer vacation that year in Florida taking care of her and wrote this poem in the airplane on the way down there.
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This Isn’t a Poem

The sunrise looks like
an apricot river as I gaze
out the airplane window.
I wish I were flying
to Aruba instead of to Florida
to take care of my mom
and her cancer.
I would sink my feet
into brown sugar sand
instead of trying to make them
fit under the seat in front
of me.

My mom is a sick child
courageously coughing
the cancer
that is chewing her up.

She is my hero
and her sunrise tastes
like blood
and smells like death.

Nevertheless, she shines with strength.

I wish I were a magician
and could wave my wand
to make her better.

This isn’t a poem about loss, though;
it’s a poem about the thread of love
and how we sew the quilts of our lives together
with stitches of willpower and caring.