Polar Express


The ultra sound gel is cold and blue.
I have been in this room before.
Ice in my veins. Too many biopsies,
scans, skipped heartbeats.
I am marked with a small circle
that will take days to fade.
She says, ‘That’s just your rib.’
Some bruising left over
from old scars. Nothing new,
nothing sinister. I’m so grateful
I start babbling about
my appointment with Santa Claus.

I am standing on a platform
waiting for a steam train
to take me to the North Pole.
As the fog swirls with the ringing
of bells, your face lights up with belief.
The door swings open to shouts
of ‘All Aboard’. Golden tickets,
the howling of wolves, hot chocolate.
It does not matter where we’re going,
it matters that we can still make the journey.

Vows – recording of my poem on One Stage At A Time, a poetry project for people affected by cancer.  We are currently looking for submissions.


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