Cancer Vs. SurvivorMature

It was actually a school assignment one year to write an epic poem imitating Beowulf''s battle with Grendel. This is what I came up with. Written in memory of those in my family who died of cancer.

From the beginning of time
A curse, sent from the fingertips
Of the blackest heart known to man,
Has traveled a journey
From the deepest, darkest pits of hell
In a quest to torture and kill
Any human that stands in it's path.
This curse, concocted in the mind
Of the Demon-Angel, Lucifer,
Was one made with such pure hatred -
Hatred for his greatest enemy, God -
And the sickening thirst
To kill all of his most beloved creations.
This curse is a lioness,
Hiding in the shadows, like a thick fog,
Creeping through the night,
Stalking the unknowing,
The unsuspecting
Until, finally, the prime opportunity comes,
And the curse leaps upon its prey,
Constricting it's torturous fingers around it,
Bestowing a plague,
Greater than any ailment ever known.
The curse-plague, choosing a point,
Penetrates it's victim's body,
Adhering itself to any and all
Objects that obstruct it's path,
Making the formerly healthy diseased,
And draining the life from it's target.
Lucifer's curse upon humanity
Had never before failed at it's task
To leave no soul standing in it's wake;
But when God,
Refusing to let go and claim his defeat,
Created a woman, not invincible,
But strong in heart and mind,
The demonic curse-plague was halted,
For it had finally met an opponent,
Equally determined to never be beaten.

This hero, made with the purest of souls,
And the most courageous of hearts,
Was not an immortal by any means,
But was, instead, perfectly human.
With a powerful passion for life,
And the determination to succeed,
This human-hero had valiantly fought,
And won,
Any battle life threw in her path;
And, until Lucifer's curse
Bestowed it's plague upon her,
The human-hero's life was simple,
Like a small summer breeze,
Whispering in the wind,
Making everything sway in it's midst
And move in unison.
But soon,
The peaceful flow
Of this human-hero's existence
Would be interrupted,
For God had different plans
For her life than the tranquil path
That her feet currently trod.
The human-hero was a warrior,
Designed by God to fight Lucifer's
Demonic plague;
And, once strong enough,
She would be thrown in the
Curse-plague's path of destruction
To battle 'til the death of one,
For the Earth was not enough
To withhold both.

And then, finally,
The night approached
When the warrior-hero's
Strength was, alas,
Great enough to fight the battle
For which she had been built.
God saw this and, with no second thought,
Threw the kind-of-heart, benevolent
Warrior into the torturous path
She could never deserve;
But this was never a battle of karma,
It was one of good and evil.
With strength and courage
Like that of the mythical King of Gods, Zeus,
The warrior-hero
Would accept the path fate had chosen,
And fight her battle as Zeus had fought his:
With unyielding animosity
Towards her enemy,
And an undying determination to triumph.
With the warrior-hero obstructing it's view,
Preventing it from completing it's task,
The enemy-curse became hot with anger,
And struck the warrior-hero
With such ferocity
That she was knocked from her feet.
Staggering to stand strong once again,
The hero fought back,
Endeavoring to rid her body
Of this new and undesired ailment.
With both hero and villain,
Thriving to complete their tasks,
One's completely opposing the other's,
Time wore on,
Taking it's toll on both;
But the warrior-hero had a weapon
More valuable than any sword ever molded
Or any curse ever concocted,
For the hero had love
And a family that stood by her side.
This family-weapon
Kept her spirits lifted,
Her heart courageous,
And, even in the toughest of time,
Her mind positive.
Through her weakness and her strength,
Love prevailed,
Standing by her side,
Ready to make her fight their own
And, no matter what it took,
Kept their beloved hero strong.
Together, the hero and her family-weapon
Forced the plague from their lives,
Ripping it from all it had adhered to
In the hero's body.
The plague had failed and,
As it hung it's head in shame and
Retreated, once again,
To the shadows from which it came,
The hero and her loved ones sighed in relief,
For they believed their troubles were,
At last,
Over.

But one should never be too quick
To rejoice a victory never won,
For the demonic curse-plague
Still laid eyes upon the human-hero
From the depths of the shadows
In which it hid,
Recovering it strength,
Planning to strike again,
And this time with no retreat.
At last, the opportunity
That the curse-plague
Had been so patiently waiting for
Had arrived.
The walls that guarded the human-hero
Had finally come crashing down
Around her.
The guardian-walls
That had so long guarded
This woman-hero
Had failed and, now,
The Plague attacked, once again,
With a vengeance.
The plague would no longer accept defeat,
And the hero no longer had
The strength to fight;
And, even though
The death of the hero was tragic,
It has inspired those, even now,
Who are experiencing the struggle
Between life and death
That the curse-plague
Bestows upon their lives.
And, even those who are let down,
Hear the story of the woman-hero,
Like a child hears a bedtime story,
And they are, once again, uplifted,
Their strength regained to fight this
Terrible disease.

The End

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