Did I tell you that I got a tattoo around my reconstructed navel? And a jeweled piercing? My son plugs his ears and yells, “LALALALA!” until I cover it up, and my husband just rolls his eyes (I am 61) but I have a flat tummy, thanks to breast cancer, so why not?
A friend wrote this poem for me to commemorate the end of my healing journey. She gave it to me on the anniversary of my mastectomies with a scalpel, and told me that when the time was right I could throw the scalpel away. That day was yesterday, and here is what she wrote. Feathers For ties that bind and ties that cut and ties that lay us down For knives that cut and knives that bend and do not look around The knives and ties that cut your heart while healing that above They do not see what’s clearly there the feathers of The Dove The Dove sees them with their intent to heal what is above Not ever seeing what’s beneath those feathers of The Dove Feathers soft that stroke you now you cannot feel above Yet feel those feathers underneath in your heart where lies The Dove Goodbye to knives goodbye to ties The Dove can now fly on For what is above is finally healed and now The Dove says, “DONE”
