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I am becoming more forgetful. Friends laugh tell stories about misplaced keys forgotten names. A few gently ask if chemo did this to me. My doctor refers me for an MRI.
You don't understand. For just one moment I forgot that I have/had/may have cancer.
I have become a magician watching in amazement as fear disappears. Sounds of audible delight escape as the faint outline of hope materializes.
and as hope takes shape remembering begins.
This poem was originally published in "Coping with Cancer Magazine," September/October 2006 Jane Levin is a retired psychologist, community worker and eight year survivor of ovarian cancer. Recent publications include: Terrain, Illness & Grace; Terror & Transformation, The Houston Literary Journal, Talking Stick, Drash: Northwest Mosaic and Dust & Fire. Her chapbook, Legacy, is scheduled for publication in April 2008. Jane welcomes your comments at: jjkiwi@gmail.com.
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