LIMBO
I’m neither here nor there
great nor terrible
staying nor going
crying nor
laughing
just waiting is all.
Waiting for this
bit of news that could change everything.
Has it already changed?
It feels powerless sometimes
someone will know before me.
The pathologist will know
He, she will have my results
after much examination and manipulation
and whatever else they do
with my tissue, my nodes, my cells.
But they will know, they have my power.
They will know before I do if it’s good news or bad news.
They will result their results on paper, computer, on the
phone.
They will put those results next to my name, my faceless
name.
I wonder what they’ll think.
Will they feel bad for me if the results are positive
or will they rejoice for me if it’s negative?
They’re going to know minutes maybe hours before me.
I wait at home trying not to think about something that I
can’t help but think about.
It’s impossible.
I’m standing here
ready to turn the page
but I can’t
the story’s not written yet.
It could go two ways
and both ways seem equally impossible and distant to me.
Maybe limbo’s better.
So here’s my story
here’s my next page.
This is so little,
such a little part of what I, we, you are here to
do.
I accept my fate whatever fate gives me.
I have no power with how it turns out.
My power lies in how I react to what I'm given.
I can live in fear
or I can live in light.
Light sounds
better,
that’s my next
page.