Prakash Nagarajan

Prakash Nagarajan

* Cancer *

What seemed like, a tiny red spot, Became soon, a hard little wart, Ignored first, as something benign, An merely ugly crop, which would soon be fine,

It wasn't until, a test was done, A disease identified, leaving me stunned, Doctors pronounced it, the great big C, Made me depressed, and all at sea,

News to me, that was repugnant, Made more so, when they said it was malignant, Filled me with fear, Leaving me in tears,

It won't be a lie, To say, I was about to die, Until in desperation, reposing my faith in God, Decided to fight, against all odds,

My family became, my pillar of strength, Ready in support, going to any length, Thus with counseling, began my sessions of therapy, In medical parlance, they call it Chemotherapy,

Though painful a process, I had to bear, Kept smiling, and a countenance of cheer, For my own sake and of loved ones, I had to cope, Struggle with an ailment, based on hope,

But to cut, a long story short, Suffice to say, my doctors managed to thwart, The spread of tumour, And quashed with it, a rumour,

That Cancer can't be cured, A lie, to which we are so inured, When strongly endured, it can be overcome, So never in fear, should one succumb,

After great many, lovely, beautiful years, With my loved ones, and all those near, I can vouch it's curable, if you never knew, For standing before you, here I'm - as good as new!

© Prakash Nagarajan

India