Mamasita
Jane Nash: Poem ‘Mamasita’
Nine years old this year
If you were a dog that would be bad
But tis 9 years since the stem cell transplant
9 years since being told
you’re at the end of the road
9 years since sitting in that restaurant
The three of us
Getting to grips with the fact
it might just all be over
The chemotherapy
The sickness
The losing of hair
Which is more devastating
that one can imagine
The terrible wig
The hat I knitted you to keep your head warm
The first thing I had ever knitted
For the last months of your life
Nine years old this year
When all the markers were against you
AML
it sounds like a football club abbreviation
Acute – there’s nothing cute about
Myeloid – it belonged to all of us
Leukemia – there are no good recovery stats
I watched you shrink,
Washed you
Fed you
Watched you hoping all the time
That this was no Black Star
I wanted in the small hours
A Lazarus effect
But to watch your tiny bones
Your shrinking body
Your little face
My soul began to take bites out of itself
Nine years old this year
Nine glorious accounts of rebellion
With each new birthday I have become
A little cheekier with fate
When I feel that my life is at a standstill
I look at your face, your fuller face
Your stronger bones
Your proud to be ageing body
I am reminded that miracles
Come in the form of packages
It takes a team of us, of them and
Your absolute resolve to survive
To happen
I never mind hearing your voice
Even if I’m tired and falling asleep
When you call across the time zones
I relish the sound of you
The recall of your daily adventures
No matter how ordinary
Because life can never be mundane