The Orphan, a new poem.

I’m still working on this one (this is rough draft number five), but it’s beginning to take shape.


the silent killer.
By the time you see the symptoms,
it’s too late.

Blood in the urine,
bile behind the eyes.
Jaundiced skin
stretched over calcified bones;
you watch the organs fail,
one by one.

The palliative care
buys time:
say goodbyes,
write a bucket list you won’t start,
pray to a god you’ve never believed in,
and who never
believed in you.

Family grieves,
or maybe not.
Friends hold your hand
watching the IV

A long, discordant note.

Closure comes,
in ashes spread,
or held in a garbage bag
on a garage shelf;
broken Christmas ornaments,
and a rusted shovel
for company.

But some cancers are
less obvious.

A missed apology.
An unanswered email.
Blood spilled,
blood lost.
A broken bond.
Trivial wounds,
turned life-altering scars.

Defeating, cacophonous.

Walls built.
Water thickens.

Crimson stains
are bleached away.

Some cancers eat the kidneys,


Thanks for reading,
~ Victoria Elizabeth


2 thoughts on “The Orphan, a new poem.

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