The family portrait of Ma



How to not cancer? How to, you say?

A family portrait stands, stuck to the left.

Frozen and perfect are the united,

In the wake of devastating bald evil and a bandana.

She crouches, centered in the timeless beauty of an unaffected soul,

Practiced smiles and joyful cheekbones reign over the blooming garden.

While one stands alone, unimpressed, with eyes in curved shadows,

He smiles for no one, for no one has him smiling.

How to not cancer? How to, you say?

He wishes to all seven heavens for an answer he knows not to come.

An angel of frail and fractured bones looks up at her,

Staring absently, lost in her mortal coil.

A single obsidian strand of hair,

Hangs twisted and woven, in silent prayer of Buddhist tranquility.

How to not cancer? How to, you say?

Hope… hope.


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