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Barbed Wire ©

Josephine Duthie
Aberdeen, Scotland

I look up from your diary,
a book full of arrows,
arrows of twisted steel.
I see you as never before,
your fears, your wishes.
The nightmares that held you down,
the panic that crushed you.
I sit alone in your silent room,
on your unmade bed.
I think I hear you laughing.
I look back at your words
each one a small piece of you,
and all I seem to read are chemo,
cancer, nausea, pain,
yet inside this numbness
I see an urgent wish for some future.
I look up again expecting to see you.
Then, I remember as you clung to the dawn
until the sun hit your pillow,
your head twisting round and round,
not wanting to miss a second of it's warmth.
I remember your last sigh
as the birds sang into your room.
I close your diary and set it aside,
no longer a vision of great things to come,
but a quiet reminder of carefree times
and a long future without you.

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