The call comes—
     Clutching the countertop for support
     Praying to forestall the yet unnamed and unspoken
     Denying, denying, denying — yet knowing
     Hushing, strangling a rising, insistent NO.

The voice begins “I’m sorry ...”
     Listening, listening, failing
     Flailing for comprehension
     Recoiling from the rawness of the reality
     Grasping for strength from a chair, the table
     Seeking to remain standing
… to b r e a t h e

The voice continues ...
     Spiraling from the center core, stunned by a single word that
has just broken the universe
     Plunging into a miasma of writhing senses severed from thought
     Detaching from the distant muffled monologue

The voice ends “I’m sorry.” ….
Breathing, breathing, breaking

A vortex of wild white fear engulfs the soul
     As the future splinters into brokenness, the shards shred the pretense of calm
     As the foundation of life shifts
     A flooding awareness of the assault of mortality loosens the sinews of knees
     And the foundation shatters wide open beneath

Sinking, sinking, sinking through the crack until the floor at last provides solidity
     Enduring repeated, bewildering, trembling waves of hot and cold sensation,
     Rising and falling, finally subsiding

Shrinking, sharpening this moment to a fine point
     Staring into the inescapable truth
     Surrendering starkly to the gaping wound of the diagnosis
     Quieting, gradually into a protective silence of momentarily      frozen time
     Facing a tomorrow that will call for decision and knives and poison

Seeking solely in this moment simply to ascend to courage

Originally written: 2010. Updated on 2022 re-diagnosis.