Amanda DiGioia is a dual national of the United States and Italy. DiGioia is currently completing her PhD at the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College London, after being treated for cancer in the middle of her studies.
In chemotherapy, I see the daughters of Darkness,
crouched around the thread of my life.
All of these years in the underworld,
and still no loom, Clotho?
I often muse about your sense of humor,
(or lack thereof), Spinner.
I swore I heard you cackle as cancer
scuttled through my veins,
ripping at me with its sharp claws.
Have you ever endured this kind of pain,
Is it only for mortals?
We who are ultimately doomed to turn to ash and dust?
The doctors told me my cancer
was not genetic or lifestyle based.
A random mutation; a twist of your distaff.
Lachesis, I feel your fingers, strong and unyielding,
grasping the thread of my life:
gossamer made of gleaming onyx,
flashing with silver and gold.
What lessons will I learn,
for the remainder of my tenure here on earth?
How much time will I be allotted?
Will my life matter?
Poetry in this post: © Amanda DiGioia
Published with the permission of Amanda DiGioia