I Am Poet, Hear Me Roar

I haven't posted in here for awhile because I wanted to wait for something important to say. My last post, the birthday one, was my 50th here. So I wanted the next 50 to start out with something at least minorly epic.

So, here it is. I am currently taking an Honors class that deals exclusively with poetry. We read, we discuss, we listen... everything. Also, we write. Throughout the course of this class, we will write four poems. Already we've done our sonnets, which I think I did decently on, and today our Romantic Influence poems are due. Think Wordsworth, Coleridge, Shelley, etc.

I don't know if mine contains any wisdom or grace, but it's important to me. It's about my dad, and the struggle my family is going through right now. It's untitled, I hope the poem is strong enough on its own to not need one.

Winter, such a duplicitous season,
Blanketing the ground with a stark layer
Of silver white snow, that lulls us into
Believing that its motives exist pure--
Only hiding the ground until spring can
Bloom once again, mirroring the impact
That illness has visited upon family.
Cancer, the ugliest of words, lying
Dormant within one’s person, like the snow
Waiting for the coldest of climate to
Appear. While everything else lies down dead,
The snow and the sickness flourish alive--
Mocking the bright flowers and hope that wilt
Before their presence. Then realization
Hits that winter has just begun, the fight
Is nowhere near over. Battles are fought;
Ground is gained and lost under flakes of loss.
Despair seems to be insurmountable,
Unable to beat its towering foe.
However, soon the thaw begins to win.
Hints of grass shed their cocoon, basking in
The warmth and promise that sunshine provides
To victims of the powdery villain.
Spring has arrived with a clarion blast,
Renewing the spirit that lay dampened
If the world can live anew after the
Cold grasp of winter has been defeated,
Disease lacks the power to extinguish
The fight of a warrior—or father.