Frozen to the bone with fear
but I did not cry.

Mom got a phone call,
while situating herself on the couch.
As I watched she grasped her forehead.
She was choking down tears.
Slowly I arose from my chair
and walked to take her side.

Holding her tightly,
Like she had done to me as a child,
mom hung up the phone.
Turning her head to look at me in the eyes,
I got a closer look at the troubled expression draping on her face.

The tears that I was holding back would not save her.
I was in shock,
and just couldn’t understand.
Why would such a strong woman have to fight,
cancer is a war and my mom had been drafted.

My father’s heart was shattered into pieces.
Not once did my mother cry.

But I knew,
like a soldier leaving home for war,
she was scared and had no clue what was to come.

I am a piece of my mother,
I felt her pain.

To me she is the definition of a woman
and a hero in my eyes.
Funny,
Beautiful,
and strong.

Every night I slept next to her
after the removal of the monster.
I never wanted her to feel alone.
My mom had always been there for me so I knew,
It was my turn to take care of her.

Pink is the color of strength.
Pink is the color of war.
Pink is now the color of survivors.