Tag Archives: Poetry

If Hope Was A Color



Nah, nah, you heard me right the first time
Tatas, boobs, jugs, rag, squeezer pleasers, hooters, Thelma and Louise, attention felons
and “One day, ‘dose mosquito bites will turn into juicy, juicy melons”

Breast cancer.

You see it’s not so funny when that’s added into the picture.


Do the math.

I was 16 — 2 lumps, 1 breast.
I mean 10 years ago it was about training bras but now it’s about padded ones
and the underwire just isn’t enough to support me.

The numbers don’t add up
If you divide the chest, subtract the lumps, you’ll see what I wanted to be..

When I was little
I used to put pink ribbon in my hair.
I would pretend to be a ballerina and let the pink ribbon engulf my body
As I danced freely — from all constraints.

Now pink ribbon gives me night terrors.

Because it’s like a grumbling monster that grew the balls to cuddle up next to me that October night.

Hug me, caress me, stress me,
Enough for my uncomfortability,
But I wasn’t strong enough to put up a fight.

So I lift my arms
Pat left, pat right.

Feel for lumps and bumps because it might be breast cancer
I felt something and hoped.

“Oh maybe it’s nothing”
But my thoughts lingered.
My fear and blissful ignorance held hands and strolled quietly..

and I asked God’s forgiveness for whatever I had done wrong
Made promises I didn’t know that I could keep,

Hoping he would take it away
But I don’t think he heard me.

So I prayed louder and harder


His response was silent…
and I was there.

Living on sincere hopes and prayers.
But if hope was a color I would see it in pink with red splashes and purple polka dots
Not as something scary,
But as something beautiful beyond comprehension
Not to mention
…worth fighting for.

So here’s to the warriors who wrap themselves in pink sashes and don’t allow the fear to overcome them.

Here’s to the mamas, sisters, aunties, and cousins who fight like real women
Because 1 in 8 will be diagnosed with breast cancer.

1 in every 8 will develop breast cancer
What if that one was your mother?
Would it force your eyelids open?
Or your sister?
Would it divulge the words you haven’t spoken?
What if that one was your daughter?
Because I’ve seen cancer slaughter daughters and I just wasn’t ready to put on the armor…

1 in every 8 women will develop breast cancer
And I was almost one of them.



**Evanston, IL native, Bryanna Adams is a senior at Marist College, studying criminal justice, communications, and women’s studies. She’s a sucker for long walks on the beach, deep dish pizza, and social justice discourse. To keep up with her shenanigans, visit: bchrisrenee.blogspot.com

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