You hear it,

You feel it,

You fall down,

You're forced to believe it.

You had been smiling all day,

Drifting around while she was in pain,

How funny the notion that you had a test to study for,

The diagnosis of cancer had not yet knocked at your mother’s door.

You fumble around,

Dashing and daring to try and find common ground.

Why is it so hard for you to create a new sound?

All you can do is pound, pound, pound.

You’re trying to scream and connect to that brain of hers!

She must think everything out, plan everything--anything--to help.

You can’t quite seem to reach it today,

Every other limb seems to have gone astray.

Your sibling organs recognize this feeling.

The feeling of falling, wildly upside down.

You are trying to pump as much of the red as you can,

So that not everyone or everything you know goes stumbling around.

You hear your owner crying,

The sniffles and then sobs that hear her trying to calm down,

She does because she knows she needs to use you,

And so she does- slowly, and with strength she then comes to:

You beat for her and you beat for the messy tray of emotions,

You recognize anger, sadness, defeat, inspiration,

All of the conflicting notions,

And you can feel her directing both her thoughts of progress and sin.

You heard the heartbeat of her mother,

And you felt when it faltered.

It is okay, you try to squeeze into her mind and veins with pressure,

But that must not be enough, because you feel her constantly searching for a cure.

If only it were that easy,

And you didn’t dull when she sat there staring into the distance.

The most rapid you ever got was when she was sitting in an ER last time,

There were so many feelings when the doctors came out with sad eyes: understanding, then a far off yearning for her head's assistance.

You know that you are going to be beating loudly for quite some time,

Trust the belief that it is okay for right now if you do not follow a correct beat or rhyme.

You also know that as the thoughts flow, as will progress.

She has dictated to you through journals, prayers, and reflection that that is the only thing that will digress.

The hope is what must come through to dilate, dull, and then disintegrate the pain.

It must shatter the metal that comes up to separate her and the lane.

There is not one, but multiple lanes of traffic that this car of her mother’s cancer has to dodge.

She is ready to help, and she knows that just like any car accident, her body might have to lodge.

As her and her family go through this entire ordeal,

You know that they are all passengers and they are frightened.

You know they will cry, but also laugh.

The biggest strength comes from what you did not believe you already had in tact.

You will wail from sorrow, but also for a certain song.

You, you beautiful part of her, will be able to help this woman through the right and the wrong.

It will not be easy, but it will be done.

Do not fret, you ecstatic heart- this cancer will be won.