Humbled

She likes to sit in the sun
By the big window
There's hardly anything left of her
She's been fighting for so long.
Bald and tiny
And fragile,
Like cobwebs and paper.

She holds a small picture in her hands
Smiling through tears,
"My life was so good,"
She tells me,
"In my pride, I asked god for a burden.
That I could help shoulder
The sorrow of the world.
When I got the cancer, I thought,
'This is it, my burden'
But I was wrong,"

She holds up the picture,
"Living without this man,
This beautiful man..."
She is too weak to cry.
She holds a cloth to her face
And turns away from the big window.