I went for a little walk round the ward
to get my bearings,
to check the escape route.
Everyone should check their escape route.
You’re not the prisoner of their routine
their temperature checks, their blood-pressure rituals,
their polite little captures of the day.

I walked, dragging my IV cocktail stand.
I saw sleepy faces, smiley faces
but no despair, no sadness.
And that shocked me,
because this morning I was trembling,
staring down the barrel of another chemo,
expecting misery to echo back at me.

But instead, what I found
was something stubbornly alive
a quiet pulse of courage,
people knitting their pain into patience,
eyes that refused to give up on light.

And as I turned the last corner,
one thought followed me like a shadow
all the things I presumed I’d see
the fear, the sorrow, the defeat
had been quietly pushed aside
by hope.