A Poem: Survivor’s Guilt
The mirror shows a stranger, scars a map,
Of battles fought, a life upon the scrap.
Chemotherapy’s ghost, a lingering ache,
A constant fear, a soul that can’t escape.
The whispers rise, “You’re lucky, you’re alive,”
But echoes linger, of those who didn’t thrive.
The vacant chairs, the faces lost to time,
A haunting chorus, a constant, grim rhyme.
Survivor’s guilt, a heavy, leaden cloak,
A shadow dancing, a soul that’s lost its spoke.
“Why me?” she cries, “Why did I survive?”
While others perished, beneath a fading sky.
The joy of living, a bittersweet embrace,
A fragile gift, a tear-stained, weary face.
Gratitude mingles with a deep abiding pain,
For those who vanished, in the endless rain.
But strength emerges, from the depths of despair,
A newfound purpose, a love beyond compare.
To cherish moments, to savor every breath,
And honor those lost, in life and in death.
To advocate, to raise a helping hand,
To walk beside those facing the unknown land.
To find solace in the shared, unspoken plight,
And find the courage, to embrace the light.
For even in the shadows, hope can still reside,
A flicker in the darkness, a newfound stride.
To live each day, a precious, fragile art,
A survivor’s journey, a brave, courageous heart.
The Echo in Elizabeth’s Mind
(written by Elizabeth Proett)