There’s a little white duck in me
That refused to quack.
She sat back,
And let the mallards prune
With assumption of their predominant power.
Until that fateful day,
When carcinoma got in the way!
It’s easy to duck from hurt,
Embarrassment, anger, fear.
Safer to hold back, and not quack,
Letting years of emotional carcinomas
Build like insulating feathers,
Like water rolling off a duck’s back,
Our down of muffled rage.
Yet carcinoma is a wake-up call,
A summons to alert!
Can’t bury our heads in the sand.
Can’t duck from the painful truth!
A challenge to quack back.
A fight for life.
A time to stretch our neck and be heard!