😔😑😟😣
When she said "my whole life sucks,"
I tried to hide my disbelief.
"How old are you?" "Thirteen."
Good grief, I thought. A little young
for all the angst. I shrugged. "It's Friday!"
But she shook her head. Another angle:
"Well...you're healthy. And you're pretty."
("Yes she is," her friends -- both boys -- agreed.)
I had a little sermon at the ready about
gratitude for all the blessings we enjoy
but she just shook her head, held tight
to all her misery as if it were a trusted friend.
And then I stood there, listening. She said
that something small had made her parents mad
but somewhere in the argument, a phrase that didn't fit.
He's dying. Just a bit of drama, she assumed
(as so would I) but later on she found a paper
on the counter with angry knife-sharp words.
Chemo. Cancer. Not the words a little girl
can carry all alone with grace. The face, the mask
she's wearing, is all wise cracks and complaints
but fear is sitting just behind her eyes.
The next time that she cries out
that her whole life sucks,
the words ring true.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2022
No comments:
Post a Comment