“I Miss Them” (my breasts) April Is National Poetry Month, So I’m Sharing a Poem!

Did you know April is National Poetry Month? I didn’t until last year. One of my favorite poets is Lois Hjelmstad. One of her poems that really speaks to me is featured in a post I shared last April. That poem remains one of my all-time favorites. You’ve gotta read it.

I promised myself last April that before the next National Poetry Month rolled around I would try writing some poetry, and that I would share one of my poems with you, Dear Readers. Well, here it is one year later and April is nearly over, so time is running out for that sharing part. Gulp.

Writing poetry is challenging for many reasons, one being that you must choose your words even more carefully to say what you want with limited word usage. Sharing poetry is also challenging because in some ways sharing poems you’ve written feels even more personal than sharing a blog post or an essay.

I’m not exactly sure why this is, but maybe it’s partly because in order to write poetry you have to be even more willing to expose pieces of your inner, private self in just a few words. You can’t explain too much. You just have to put yourself out there. There’s risk involved in writing of any kind, maybe more so when writing poetry.

One thing I love about poetry is that there are no rules. Oh sure, there are some rules for certain kinds of poetry writing, but mostly you’re free to express yourself however you choose. Nice, right?

So enough with the stalling; here’s the poem I chose to share with you today. It’s personal and yes, it was difficult to hit publish, but here it is.

I Miss Them (My Breasts)

I miss them –
Their shape, their naturalness and how they made me feel.
Anatomy parts that once were mine, and then one day just gone.

I never said a proper goodbye.
There wasn’t time.
There was the cancer…

I have new ones now, quite different from my firsts.
Their shape, their feel is still quite foreign, as if they don’t belong.
Because of course, they don’t.

I miss them.
Sometimes it seems I should not say this,
Or even dare to think it.

I am alive.
I should be grateful.
And I am, but…

I miss them.
I didn’t want to part with them and pretend it didn’t matter.
It did. It does. It always will.

I know now that grief and gratitude can co-exist.
And so I’m done pretending.
I miss them.

It’s okay to feel this way and say so right out loud.
And so I’m done pretending.
I miss them.

Have you written any poetry? If so, feel free to share a poem or a link.

If you’ve had breast surgery of any kind, do you miss your originals as they once were?

Have you ever felt as if you shouldn’t say certain things, or even feel certain ways about your cancer experience?

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