Unspoken

It began with a whisper, a fever’s first breath,  

Then came the blood, an unsettling sign.  

Leukemia, a harsh shadow in the dark,  

Admitted at 139; the night was long and cold.

DNS first, a needle’s bite,  

Followed by platelets, pulfurgun’s slow drip.  

On the third day, a shift to 149,

Welcome to oncology.

Arsenic, ATRA, Pipzo, marro, targo 

Their line made, bone marrow’s promise, transfusions' hope.  

Platelets and time, weaving one year  

Into the fabric of waiting and doubt.

Now, my Hemoglobin is 5, fever is 105, shortness of breath & blood from mouth 

I have let go; the journey’s end is near.  

Perhaps I missed the turn along the way.

Finally, I have relapsed like rain.

- Vishwanath