Noctambulant stalker
Peddler of false comfort and fake hope
Denying the terror and death of cancer.
The toast of boardrooms around the globe
Prowess with profit and unpronounceable drugs
that twist the tongue,
tire and wrack the body.
Leave financial ruin,
fatigue, and side effucks in their wake.
But without the spine to face those with the disease
Hiding in boardrooms behind clinical trials
You slink around.
Cross your t’s and dot your i’s.
Climb bureaucratic ladders of greed and profit
in the shadow of others,
researchers in white lab coats,
or crusaders in pink bras.
Happiness of a bog orchid or sweet Mary Jane
will not cure or even calm.
Nor will turmeric or any peachy vegan concoction.
You would not survive the broadside
of devastating diagnosis,
five year arbitrary definition of cure.
Know that your power will not wax strong
That even with a mnemonic brand name
you will be forgotten like
the apple, penny, table
test for dementia.
For patients,
patience will triumph
with tenacity and resilience.
Hope refusing to die.
Like Dickinson's thing with feathers
keeping us warm while never asking for a thing.
Living while dying.
*Title taken from a reference by Audre Lord in Cancer Journals to the profit driven machinery driving not-for-profit cancer organizations, pharmaceutical companies and government regulators.
Angus July 5, 2020