The only poetry

There is no poetry in breast cancer,
except to closely observe 
how she deals with it 
- incredibly courageous,
with no drama. 

If I were to take her place, 
I would be a crumpled heap 
in the corner full of self-pity. 

Not her.
She is the living 
embodiment, someone 
who simply shows courage
in the awfulness of chemo, 
the toxins that make her feel 
constantly ill. 

Courage is not 
the absence 
of facing up to 
the dread of the
next treatment. 
She lives, 
breathes courage.

I am in awe of the poetry she lives out.