I dreamt that the gods picked me out of bed

and shook me violently

they had grown tired of my struggle

and breathed bravery into my lungs

i was not born ready for this

but something has changed

it was desire that made me weak

so I will take those parts you claimed

and build a new fire

a new flame to consume the old

and burn the blame

– Sheila C.





the years

have been cruel.

the gods

have been cruel.

i know you rest

but memory

does not.

i see you still

white knuckles


white cells


on the

white floor


smooth hair

like you’d 

just been born.



the irony is cruel.


-sheila c.

*I wrote this poem for my cousin, Alicia.. who died at 25 from cervical cancer. She was a beautiful woman, until the second her heart stopped beating and her soul transcended this Earth.. Please remember to get screened regularly for cervical & breast cancer. Be kind to yourself and be kind to those you love. We are not permanent.*