Through a narrow tube

So much to say,
Yet words crumble, frail,
For what good are they now?
The throat has spoken:
“I cannot swallow anymore.”
Not that I was hoping—
But I never saw this early.

White-uniformed voices murmur stern advice:
“Deny the fight,
When done is done,
Acceptance must find you.”

To feed, or not to feed?
I ask the nose, not the mouth—
For the mouth has tried,
And tried again.

To feed, or not to feed?
This choice does not accuse.
The body adjusts,
The will bends gently
Where life seeks to endure.

And so I speak, dear throat,
With kindness now:
You’ve carried songs, laughter,
Even silence, with grace.
You need rest—
And I will find the strength
To let the nose bear
What you no longer can.

Acceptance rises,
Quiet as breath,
Soft as hope
Through a narrow tube.

My sister said with that hairstyle I looked like a bird in this picture and I replied not just any bird, I'm a phoenix.