I got some horrific news from one of my best friends today.
Fingers whiten on the phone.
They say that with bad news, your world comes crashing down around you.
And it does.
Glass shards streak across my face and slice my skin
Before you’ve even finished the sentence.
I know what you’re going to say.
The dark shadow at the back of my mind rears its head
And I see its face once
And once is too much.
You’re not worried. Well, you’re trying not to be.
You’re casual, airy. I know it’s wrong
Because your voice is low
And there’s a wobble in your tone
And you change the subject before I can ask
Are you going to be OK?
I don’t pray for much, only when I need to.
Your God is different than mine but I always thought He was the same
We write prayers with different addresses but they end up being delivered to the same house.
He’s being overloaded with mail right now.
For the first time in a month it’s not about me.
It’s about you.
You tell me not to worry but I can’t stop
If you’re not going to be scared, then I am.
Because the word cancer has arrived fashionably late into my life
Should’ve known he’d turn up sooner or later.
One in three, could’ve been me.
But it was you, and I hate me for it.