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You Come to Me

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  • You Come to Me

    YOU COME TO ME

    You come to me although I already
    know my words are inaudible vibrations
    senselessly echoing in your dazed mind.
    I give you recited information and quote stats;
    I try to ease by personalizing hope,
    sharing that my aged mother had
    survived this monster not once, but twice.
    You come to me, back to someone now familiar,
    a case manager, your guide on this fearful journey.
    You come to me, straight from the one
    who spoke the unspeakable,
    this cold diagnostic term.
    I realize your thoughts are maddening and
    your emotions, panicked turbulence.
    You come to me questioning,
    wanting the why; scared for yourself,
    but always, unfailingly, your family first.
    You come to me for something,
    anything, maybe nothing …
    maybe nothing more than to say,
    “Cancer. I have breast cancer,”
    to someone first who won’t cry –
    but I do, inside.
    I do every time each of you
    come to me.

    Sylvia R. Sampson-Haney 2015
    Stockbridge, GA
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