Day 1,117

Had you lived in another place.
Had you been able
to stay in your home.
Had you had access to better food,
uncontaminated water, the kind
of medical care available
just miles away. Had you had
all these things and now
been diagnosed with a tumor,
your body might be strong enough
to sustain itself, to endure
surgery, chemotherapy, radiation.
Had you been born to a mother
who herself had not
been malnourished. Had there not
been a genocide, this genocide
which makes it impossible
even to see a doctor
until it’s too late. Name the tumor
after the oppressor, name it
cruelty, sadism, deprivation.
Name it deliberate starvation.
Name it cold and unbearable heat.
Name it makeshift tents, broken
connections. Name it
explosions. Name it fire.
Name it bombings and drones.
Name it loss after loss. This
may be the last one, the one
that costs you
what you have left,
the one that will claim you,
quickly or slowly, from
the inside out.