Chemotherapy

Waking from deepest depth to the screams of your adult son,

Eyes burning from the chemicals pumped into his veins.

To see his long, thin body, his smooth baby-bald head, bent in angles of pain,

Watering eyes, pink and light-scared, blood clots from his red-rimmed nose.

Watching bright colored chemicals drain from the bag

Into his veins, see his appetite shrink, weight falling from limbs,

Pills, vials, powders, needles, pale lips and lash-less eyes,

Gagging, groaning with aches, tied to pipes and long days on hospital wards.

Slow breaths of respite,

His naked head on the pillow,

His long pale body relaxed,

Slow-breathing in healing sleep.

Slow breaths of relief,

Trust in the treatment,

One drop at a time,

In the end he will be well again.

Odense 2017