Site icon Fabienne S. Morgana


I joke that cancer, especially chemotherapy, was so bad I wrote poetry.

This poem is the third of what ended up being a series of five.

This was written towards the end of chemotherapy.

My maternal grandmother, my mother, my self ((photo actually taken 17th December 2021, after finishing chemo).

My family’s killer has found me,
Bring the curse to me
Eldest of my generation.

They slipped into the younger generation
A few years ago and claimed
A family member there.
No magic could save him.

They claimed two of four
In my mother’s generation
Attempted to murder one
Of the two remaining
But failed.
She thrives
In gentle defiance.

There was an attempt on my grandmother
It failed but broke her
When her children were killed.

Now it has slipped into my household
I counter with words, science, and magic.
There’s blood, sacrifice, potions, tears.
Ritual knives, research, fears.
A killing curse embedded
In our family lineage.
My turn now to use my magic
Blood ritual, sacrifice,
Fire Elemental work.
Changing form.
Treading the liminal space
Of three distinct treatment phases
Alchemy and Emergence.

©️ Fabienne S. Morgana October 2021

Exit mobile version