We walk. Trail they say, is a little
Path towards healing. Still, walking on Nike
Shoes does not make the shadows smaller
Or the shade a little less. Victory is only gnawing
A rope that slowly starts to shorten with time.

Yet Trail, is a walk-path to a hat collection.
Tills of the heart that make bursaries
Of mint and print. We walk with only hope as our engines
And coal as our spirit and that walk
Fills little places and spaces that matter the most.
The child battling leukemia or the young woman
Staring at a mastectomy.

And trail, is a long journey, from a tip
To an abyss, a walk on Serendipitous soil.
Yet longer is the walk of the cancer battler
Slumbering in a bed inside a lonely hospital
The rose with thorns that lost her keratin petals
On the tip of her peduncle.

And at each milepost, there will be selfies
And camera shots taken. The x-rays and the scans
That makes flat surfaces slanted slopes
As you feel someone from behind you
Pushing you down that sloping gradient
And all you want to do is to hold yourself back
And walk back up the hill.

Cancer is a trail of proliferating cells
That metastasize, and love too is a trail of endearment
That makes people walk a good 200 miles
Metastasizing to the tips of an isle with jogging shoes on
Thousands of individual cells that will metastasize
From a bud to a root – terminal to terminal.

And for that terminal cancer, we call love
There will be no cure.

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