When you rang with your bad news

When you rang with your bad news, my world changed.
How will I talk to you now? Now that I know your bad news.
Ringing for a chat, to see what you’re up to, how you are.
Simple questions, generic questions. No longer so because of your bad news.

Your bad news is yours too, your world has changed worse than mine.
You might dread those simple questions now. How do you answer them?
Yes, I am fine. It is just cancer, just part of the norm these days.

You are so upbeat but you say why shouldn’t I be?
It is just cancer, just part of the norm these days.
Your breast the price you must pay for the norm.

When you rang with your bad news, my world changed.
And yet it hasn’t. I am still what? what? but I accept your news.
What point in not? What point in freaking out?
You are not and therefore I will not.

When someone asks who inspires me I could think of no one.
But now I do.
You, mum.


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I'm afraid of poetry but since I've signed up to the Paper Doll Gang I have to start writing some, and I actually felt that poetry made trying to explain how I felt easier. I wrote this about a week after getting the phone call. Since then, it's been a week since mum's mastectomy and she is doing quite well. And in fact talking to her on the phone is almost likely nothing has happened. She still talks about it easily and so do I. I think much of the shock was the fact it was so absolutely out of the blue and so quick, but quick is also good; there is little time to dwell! In any case, now I have someone who truly inspires me because the way mum has dealt with this is really amazing.

PS: I don't allow reviews on this because I won't be changing any wording and don't wish anyone to waste their time. This was how I felt at the time and I can't change it to make it more poetic.