From Busy to Well: How Cancer Taught Me to Truly Live
Essays Farah Lawal Harris Essays Farah Lawal Harris

From Busy to Well: How Cancer Taught Me to Truly Live

Cancer forced my life into stillness. In that quiet, I noticed the silence of artistic colleagues who knew I was sick but never reached out. I felt the emptiness of achievements that once seemed so important when my health was on the line. Slowly, I shifted my focus inward, learning to embrace the profound value of family and spirituality over the external validation I once chased.

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GIVE THANKS (Poem)
Poetry Farah Lawal Harris Poetry Farah Lawal Harris

GIVE THANKS (Poem)

Be grateful for

soft, warm flesh on chests, for

God-given armor guarding hearts, for

nipples that get hard when cold.

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“You Should Write a Book!”
Essays Farah Lawal Harris Essays Farah Lawal Harris

“You Should Write a Book!”

If God granted me $5 every time someone told me I should write a book about my journey through breast cancer, I’d be able to buy a new pair of retro Nike Jordan 4’s by now. How do you write about a journey that is not over?

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PEDUNCLES (Poem)
Poetry Farah Lawal Harris Poetry Farah Lawal Harris

PEDUNCLES (Poem)

Static fills my right hip, crrrrsppppp crrrrsppppp!

Begging for a kiss, a loosening.

Despite her shallow roots, my Hoya Hindu rope

has grown peduncles—

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DREAMERHEAD
Poetry Farah Lawal Harris Poetry Farah Lawal Harris

DREAMERHEAD

Bald head, chemo girl ain’t had no hair to curl

threw up, grew up, I just bout glew up

Needed to stop the inner control freak

Stopped drumming for a while, let God control the beat.

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PEARL FISH
Farah Lawal Harris Farah Lawal Harris

PEARL FISH

I am like a pearl fish.

I swam in treacherous waters,

Nigerian-American daughter.

A thick black-girl child ain’t safe

in an ocean full of sharks!

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THE QUEEN’S DANCE
Poetry Farah Lawal Harris Poetry Farah Lawal Harris

THE QUEEN’S DANCE

The queen danced to Queen. Rebirthed and free she felt, shaking her jelly cuz jam don’t shake like that. Fear don’t shake like that. Thank God the vinyl record didn’t scratch. Box braids in a bun bouncing, beat face pronouncing the announcement that…

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