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.
GIVE THANKS (Poem)
Be grateful for
soft, warm flesh on chests, for
God-given armor guarding hearts, for
nipples that get hard when cold.
DIARY ENTRY from June 17, 2024
Anger is my birthright,
but so is peace.
I remind myself
of the highest version of me,
slowly morph into her
“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?
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—
THE HAPPIEST PLACE (Poem)
I stare at the sky
and instead of asking “Why?”
I whisper, “Thanks”
and drop tears as tithes.
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.
LAYING ON MY BACK
On my chest sit
bags of sand.
Almost 40-year-old version,
me with artificial titties.
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!
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…
GOODBYE, WINTER!
Goodbye, Winter.
I leave you with love.
Though your cold cut
through my bones…
AFTER I SHOWER (Poem)
This womb mothered
fibroids and fetus.
These hips wrestled
lust, guilt and Jesus.
The Parting of the Black Sea (Poem)
As my hair thins out and balds
and continues to fall,
I’m reminded
that my hair always changes
when my life does: