Most of this work has been created by writers during my expressive writing workshops. Some work was written by writers in other settings but the writing still relates to illness or cancer. All of the work has been posted with permission.
Category Archives: Writing
Fear – a collaborative poem by Gilda’s Club Writing Workshop Summer 2015
What a surprise–it was never expected
What again? Wow, God is trying to tell me something!
I hope I can beat the odds on this one.
Fear suffocates me, if I let it, but I can’t let it–can I?
So there’s no escape, I must exist with a new scarred reality
My diagnosis is not fatal
I fear my cancer growing somewhere in the body that will deem it inoperable.
Filed under Writing
Radiation – a collaborative poem by Gilda’s Club Writing Workshop Summer 2015
X-rays do your thing.
Hopeful to prevent future cancer cells
What an ordeal!
Making me weak and irritable
I hated radiation but the techs were great.
When it was zapping me I felt like it was healing me.
One acquaintance I met and discarded
Brighten up y’all!
Filed under Writing
Fear – a collaborative poem by Gilda’s Club Writing Workshop Summer 2015
Always present, must be confronted
This is serious!
Fear and anxiety are fighting my sanity
Every diagnosis I become scared and afraid
Diagnosis conflicts with my well-being
I don’t want to fear anything
You will not get me down
I will overcome with positivity
For the little things–a smile makes my day.
Filed under Writing
My Healing Place by Andrea Horowitz
My healing place
is on a boat
In the middle of
The mighty ocean.
The wind is strong
As we move
Over the surface
Of the breaking waters,
Waves.
White waves,
Breaking,
The smell of the salt water,
A clear blue sky.
Dolphins
Dancing ‘round,
and ‘round
Through…
The water’s surface,
Serenading us
with their sweet melody,
in conversation.
Whales diving down,
Surging up,
Swimming ‘round.
Sprays
Of cool mist,
The school of whales,
Circling ‘round
Diving down.
Tail up!
Beauty Abounds…
As the oceans waters
Spread
Across
The width
Of the whale’s tail.
Visit www.andreahorowitz.com to see more of Andrea’s work.
Filed under Writing
Madeline, Rising by Nathan Simmons
From the ashes of your bruised and broken spirit
Your light begins to pierce the darkness
Splitting the black hole in many pieces
So that the spirit that is you shines as it did before
Perhaps more so than before
Like the sun, the stars, the moon
A hundred flittering butterflies hither and thither
Bursting forth into the light
From darkness to light, from death to life
More full, brighter than ever before, healed and
Brimming over with the energy of a thousand suns
Spreading out over all of us, itself healing as it goes
Filling the darkness with light, laughter, happiness, and love
All speckled with your glitter of gladness
Rising like a wave of light bathing us with glee
You and me and us and them
Brightened by your rising
By your resurrection
By your blithe spirit
By the smile you once had lost and now encouraged
And found again and given back to make us all
Partners of your rising
I Remember the Farm by Sam I. Gellens
Its fields and stream and woods as havens from a toxic family and the physical and verbal abuse of my father
The acute awareness of the passage of seasons–long hot days of summer, the crispness of autumn, a child’s excitement getting snowed in, which meant no school the following day, and the brightness of spring and a time of planting…from the early stages of life through a substantial portion of adolescence
My room with its own fireplace, the place where I felt safe and toy soldiers were my friends and the gateway to my love of the study of history
A time of life without illness in a place of dreaming and imagining during a mostly solitary childhood
The rare pleasure of working together with my father designing and building a small coop for my little flock of colorful bantam chickens, the leader of which was a rooster I named FDR
Raising and showing Polled Hereford cattle and actually winning a junior showmanship award in 1962 which included a letter of commendation from the NJ Secretary of Agriculture and a brass commemorative bowl!
135 acres nestled in a corner of NJ steeped in colonial history and the Revolutionary War- “Washington Crossing the Delaware”, battles at Trenton and Princeton
The 38,000 broiler birds my father raised annually and how labor-intensive doing so was
A setting in which I was a very troubled kid with few if any friends beyond my toy soldiers and animals, a fair-to-middling student, always labeled a “gifted underachiever”
Filed under Uncategorized, Writing
To My Heart – Where It Has Led Me by Mickey Stagg
Dedicated to my sons
What a journey it has been!
It has brought me over hill and dale,
to sparkling rivers, streams, brooks,
with my trusty dog underfoot.
It has brought me to various colors of the meadows,
to the green of majestic trees, the blue of the sky,
and the whiteness of the clouds.
It has led me to heartbreak, first, young love
with smiles unfulfilled, kisses unmet.
It has brought me to marriage, true love and sharing,
which I first did not understand.
But life has a way of teaching.
It has led me to a small hand placed in mine
with all the confidence in the world
that I would protect and guide this little being
as father, teacher or friend.
It has brought me to dark, cold, and lonely roads
where there is no light,
only faith can show the way.
It brought me to a place of gratitude,
for I have learned, that when I helped you,
I also greatly helped me.
It has brought me to a sense of family,
caring, loving, compassionate, yet sometimes not understanding,
family with all our differences, strong wills, independence,
we have remained as one, together.
I have no regrets or remorse about where my heart has led me!
It has shown me the joys, the beauty, and the wonderfulness of life,
the mountains of triumph and the valleys of defeat,
the warmth of love, and the pain of loss.
With these words, I promise you, I will continue to follow my heart.
Love,
Dad
Filed under Uncategorized, Writing
What Matters Now is: by Sam I. Gellens
Good weather
My dog’s company
An appreciation of even the so-called smallest of blessings: a hug, a smile, a simple expression of caring and support
Being able to give as well as receive
Making new friends and reaching out
The pleasure which comes from reading all manner of books and learning new words, phrases, and expressions
Maintaining strongly-held principles, values, beliefs while simultaneously remaining intellectually and emotionally open
Not fearing the future in terms of health and illness, but emphasizing the day which is at hand when the sun rises
Filed under Writing
On Support and Gratitude by Sam I. Gellens
Gifts? Gifts? No, nothing concrete, but I am grateful for the lovely dog I have, a Welsh Corgi named Cash. Cash and I are joined at the hip and she does not like my being removed from her presence. I talk to her sometimes about what I’m feeling and I’m sure she both understands and represents a caring soul from another time who has passed on and decided to inhabit Cash’s bodily form. Could it be my mother’s Aunt Sophie, who took care of her when my mother was orphaned at seven, but ended her own life in such desolate circumstances? I feel badly when I miss an opportunity to brush Cash’s wonderfully soft and thick coat twice a day. Ditto for playtime. But I know she understands. She listens and is patient and is so sweet-natured. She is possessed of a precious soul and I’m so glad she’s mine. Could her coming to me more than a year ago have been basheret (“fated”)? Indeed, she is a gift.
Filed under Writing
My Healing Powers by Tatiana Flowers
My healing powers would be infinite. They would work quickly and efficiently, and most importantly, painlessly. I know there isn’t just one part of my body that’s affected but what I’d heal first is my hair.
It’s pretty materialistic, or rather vain for me to care more about my bald spots than my actual illness, but it’s what I see first. My hair has always been one of my prettiest assets, so for more than half of it to have fallen out as a result of my illness, it’s quite shocking. My healing powers would have it go back to the way it exactly was, not longer, not shorter. They would look something like a cloudy air pocket that I would hold. I’d place it right around my head, and voila! It would be all back!
But I can’t help but realize I’d have to help the inside of my body too. I’d stop my immune system from overworking, and I’d rid my body of all my chronic aches and pains.
Filed under Writing