Midnight cancer 
is a bottomless pit 
where voices echo 
around and around 
endlessly 
repeating the same 
prayer: 
oh 
God...

Sooner or later, midnight 
cancer changes to 
morning 
cancer, 
brighter, 
more hopeful. 
Somewhere in the sun 
rises warm and round. 
Birds are singing.

After a while, 
morning cancer melts 
into afternoon cancer 
where it hides among chores: 
cut the grass, 
clean the downspouts, 
drain the noodles.

Later, the house falls silent 
and even the dog is asleep. 
There might or might not be rain. 
Without a sound 
you are falling, 
arms wide and circling. 
It is midnight. 
You have cancer.

(~Mary Braddish O’Connor from her collection “Say Yes Quickly”)