Wonder Woman’s Journey, Part I
“This was nothing you ate,” she said. “This was nothing you did wrong. This is happening simply because you are a woman.”
Wonder Woman waiting, watching waiting women weakening, wondering, “Why?”
“Why me? I have no symptoms; I feel fine.”
Fabricating falsehoods, fearing futures for female family, favoring flawed features forthwith flat.
“I will begin four to six weeks of chemo.”
Chemically caging carcinogens, consciously consenting, chaotically collapsing, constantly containing contaminates, converting courageous characteristics, cursing, crashing.
“Does this mean you’ll be bald?”
Beautifully bald, brazenly baring breasts broken but bouncing back, boldly becoming braver, but breaking, battling, balancing, begging, bruising, but becoming…better.
“Then I will undergo removal of lymph nodes and bilateral mastectomy surgery.”
Surgeon’s scalpel sectioning skin, skillfully severing, slicing; scarily succumbing, slipping slowly, softly, sweetly, support system screaming, “Savior: save, support, sustain, stay.”
“I am remaining positive, and I want you to know, I will overcome.”
Wonder Woman’s Journey, Part II
When the whir of the clippers clicks on, I remember hearing stories in Sunday School specific to women’s hair –
How Mary of Bethany used hers to wash and dry Jesus’ feet days before his death;
The nameless woman who lived a “sinful life,” was forgiven for doing the same;
And the Apostle Paul claimed it a shame for a woman’s hair to be shorn or shaven,
For her long hair is her glory, given her for a covering.
When the cold steel is upon my scalp, I ruminate over the meanings –
How women are encouraged to grow hair long and thick,
Mermaid hair, I think they call it, as if they don’t realize that mermaids are fictional beings.
How men consider it a disgrace for a woman to shave her head,
As if our bodies are their property.
Like Samson, my power lies within my glory, which I choose to sever before it is taken.
I think He would forgive me for this,
As flashes of black fall to the floor
Like an obsidian Amazon River.
Wonder Woman’s Journey, Part III
My body and veins fill with poison…poison red as the devil.
I trace it, slowly crawling, creeping its way inside me.
I’ll see it later, traveling down the toilet.
Too sick to eat, I swallow blood from sores instead.
How long has it been? I lose track in the fog of my brain.
“Time to go,” the nurse in the hazmat says, and I load in the wheelchair, too tired to walk.
Outside she leans to whisper encouragements in my ear.
I want to scream, but my mouth is metal.
It’s my dance with The Red Devil, and a devil it is.