a breast cancer poem|

a breast cancer poem|

the phone call came in

as I was driving down the street

my seven year old son in the back seat

happily chattering away about his day

I couldn’t believe my doctor was calling me

wasn’t it a routine mammogram

I’d been checking my breasts forever it seemed

the news dropped on me — like a bomb

“I’m sorry you have| cancer|.”

breast cancer|

The words were so clear

Yet seemed like they were in a language I didn’t know

My mom, both my grandmas, my best friend, two of my cousins –maybe

I did know this language —

They hung over my head for a moment like a cloud of toxic fumes

Wait a minute, I can’t react

My son’s in the backseat

Wait a minute, I can’t believe it’s true

breast cancer|

What about the biopsy when I was 20

Everything was ok

breast cancer|

What about the biopsy when I was 32

Everything was ok

breast cancer|

This time I didn’t even feel anything irregular

Don’t I have cystic breasts

Couldn’t there be a mistake?

These breasts

My breasts| my boobies|, my tits|, my tatas|, my womanhood|

I remember buying my first bra

When I was in the third grade

I remember it so clearly

It was the day the breast fairy visited me

My Mom took me to JC Penney to buy the bra

I was 9, I remember wanting to scream

“I’m only 9.  There must be a mistake!”

I wanted to run out of the store and hide

I remember thinking, “How can Mom act so casual?
“Why is she smiling?”

Don’t ask the salesgirl for help, MOM!!!!

Can’t you see you’re embarrassing me!


But I got through it.

I grew into my breasts| my boobies|, my tits|, my tatas|

And they continued to grow

The night before the surgery I felt my breasts

One last time, caressing what was

Remembering the form I had come to know

But so ready to get rid of the cancer cells|

I didn’t want inside of me

It turned out I had a pre-cancerous tumor in the right breast too

Great, I’m a survivor right?

Think like a cancer survivor| right!

What would I look like after?

The morning before the surgery

I took a shower and lovingly said good by

to the body I had known and loved

caressing it with soap and warm water

one last time

I looked in to the mirror at myself and knew

no matter what happened

I could get through it

I am a breast cancer survivor|

and even with less breasts| boobies| tits| tatas| I would still be me|


a breast cancer poem| a breast cancer survivor’s poem| breast cancer| awareness| October is breast cancer awareness month| poem| poems| poetry| cancer| American Cancer Society| support groups| walks| walk| walk and meditate| walk & meditate 4 heath| Cindi Silva| Cindy Silva| writer| Youtube| videos| mindfulness blog| best mindfulness blogs| best mindfulness poetry| best breast cancer poetry| best cancer poetry| healing| transformation| susan g. komen| crazy sexy cancer| kris carr| more birthdays| breast cancer survivors| best books| mindfulness| breast cancer survivor| poem| poems| poetry| author| support groups| greater San Francisco Bay Area| meetups| my tatas| my tits| my breasts| my boobies| i love my boobies| my ta-tas| Youtube| videos| my womanhood| Keep a Breast Foundation| keep a breast foundation|

Here’s another| breast cancer poem| I wrote| reflections in a mirror|


Reflections in a mirror| a Poem|


I remember the days of needing

To be someone you wanted me to be

I never really took the time to get to know me

What I really wanted

What I was capable of

When I look in the mirror|

Who did I see?
I saw a stranger looking back at me



I remember you had me walking on egg shells

I tiptoed in bright red stiletto shoes I wore for you

With my toes flexed downward, pointed out

Accentuating my calves

As I walked on a tight rope

Very carefully

Trying to be perfect

To meet some impossible standards

You set for me

Not to fall off the tight rope

And when I didn’t meet them
I felt a nagging at the pit of my stomach

Sometimes I lost sleep over it

I saw below me a pit of cage free

Antibiotic free brown speckled quail, duck and goose eggs

Knowing if I fell I’d lose grace

And end up with, dare I say it?

Egg on my face – I shouldn’t have, I know –

Let’s just leave it as

I tiptoed so carefully

Not to fall so

I wouldn’t land in the egg heap

And crack any of those eggs



All the while

I made jokes


False bravado

How many acts did I perform

In this circus I created?

Magician, creating illusions of what I

Thought I was supposed to be

A master joke teller, keep ‘em laughing

Showing what a Brave woman I was

Tight rope walker

An acrobat too

Often swinging and getting tangled up

Or missing the ropes

Falling hard and beating myself up

Lion tamer –  sometimes

Ring master

Why not?

Always masking what I was really feeling deep inside

Yet I was smiling

And I thought I was happy

Until I looked in the mirror

Whose eyes did I see really looking back at me?



There is a fine line between

Knowing what we want

And doing what we think we are supposed to do

There is a fine line between knowing

And admitting we really don’t know

Why does it take so long

To feel comfortable admitting we don’t really know

What we really don’t know?

When I looked in the mirror| at the end of the day

I would laugh at the eyes looking back at me

For years I would fake out those eyes

Staring back at me

And yet I didn’t even know it

Does this sound like I’m mad

Some of you may already know what I mean

Some of you may just smile and nod

Maybe I should look back in the mirror

And check my reflection again



I can’t even tell you exactly when it happened

I know you didn’t ask

You probably don’t even care

It’s really just for me

I suppose it was very gradual

It may be I finally came into my own

And then again it may have had something to do

With when I had breast cancer|

All fear, all certainty, all stops were pulled

I realized then

When I looked in the mirror

I finally could see my own amazing eyes looking back at me

The reflections of a younger me softened

The reflections of what I thought was supposed to be me dissolved

The reflections of the impostor me dissipated

The illusion my ego created for myself

Now gone

When I look in the Mirror

I finally see my own eyes looking back at me

It takes a long journey to finally arrive





best| reflections in a mirror| reflections in the mirror| poem| poetry| breast cancer| cancer|  Cindi Silva| Cindy Silva| poems about breast cancer| mom| breast cancer survivor| coming of age| finding yourself| Youtube| videos| reflections is a mirror| Mindfulness Walk| Mindfulness Walks|


About mindfulnesswalks

Publicist| Citizen Journalist| Host| Mindfulness Walks| Virtual Cafe|Poet| Writer| Artist
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