|thick with conviction a poetry journal
At The Juvenile Diabetes Walk
There are thousands of us:
Kids with pumps and meters,
Mothers who have learned the math,
Families and friends in bright tee shirts
With hopeful mottos.
The sun has come out,
And we are led to think
This is a rock concert
Or a Mardi Gras parade,
Local news anchor as grand marshal.
I only cry when I think of
His little pancreas shutting down;
That, and all the cheerful tee shirts.
People thought not long ago
That cancer could be held at bay
By putting stickers on your car,
Reading Norman Cousins, forming clubs:
Bill Smithís Unbeatable Team.
A survivor, for a time, at least,
He spoke at our school;
We marveled at his strength of will.
But the daughter of a stricken friend
Came to my office in tears:
My mother doesnít have a team;
Does that mean she wonít get well?