HAVING SURVIVED

Having survived
I possess the sun.
I possess the sun and own the burning sky
As firmly as anyone on planet Earth
Is privileged to thus possess and own.
My ownership, granted,
Is not eternal.
But nothing is.
For the moment,
The golden light of the burning blue is mine.
On the cancer ward
I saw gray concrete with an outlook of concrete.
And never saw
What Oscar Wilde terms
That little tent of blue which prisoners call the sky.
But that was then and this is now.
My existence is provisional,
I know,
But, having survived,
I exist.
And am glad of it.