The Fierce Within
INVICTUS
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
- William Ernest Henley
I found myself drawn to this poem today on the news that journalist Andrea Mitchell is fighting breast cancer. Another warrior on the road. A road only her soul can travel, lighting the way from within. And even as we wish there were things we could do beyond the obvious to offer our support and care, the obvious is genuinely enough. The spiritual battle belongs to the warrior alone. The medical battle to the advances of science. You and I bring soup and good books. A foot massage. Love.
Someone recently wrote they objected to the word "war" and battle terminology to describe fighting cancer. That cancer, in their view, was something that happens, and was not therefore an enemy we oppose ourselves to but rather address as we would any other unwelcome situation. I thought back on my husband and my mother's and brother's experiences with cancer and realized how profoundly I disagree. Fighting cancer does not establish conflict against our own bodies. Because this is a disease that is not an event but a takeover, not a minor malfunction but an invasive cascading meltdown, we build a battle team, a battle front, and a battle plan.
As I read Henley's poem, I thought of the triumph of spirit against all odds. The human spirit is the one element in any fight we own. Unconquerable. Immeasurable. I offer those I cheer on a supportive spirit, and faith to prevail. I offer myself my own inner flght. What we bring to the world is a collective light.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
- William Ernest Henley
I found myself drawn to this poem today on the news that journalist Andrea Mitchell is fighting breast cancer. Another warrior on the road. A road only her soul can travel, lighting the way from within. And even as we wish there were things we could do beyond the obvious to offer our support and care, the obvious is genuinely enough. The spiritual battle belongs to the warrior alone. The medical battle to the advances of science. You and I bring soup and good books. A foot massage. Love.
Someone recently wrote they objected to the word "war" and battle terminology to describe fighting cancer. That cancer, in their view, was something that happens, and was not therefore an enemy we oppose ourselves to but rather address as we would any other unwelcome situation. I thought back on my husband and my mother's and brother's experiences with cancer and realized how profoundly I disagree. Fighting cancer does not establish conflict against our own bodies. Because this is a disease that is not an event but a takeover, not a minor malfunction but an invasive cascading meltdown, we build a battle team, a battle front, and a battle plan.
As I read Henley's poem, I thought of the triumph of spirit against all odds. The human spirit is the one element in any fight we own. Unconquerable. Immeasurable. I offer those I cheer on a supportive spirit, and faith to prevail. I offer myself my own inner flght. What we bring to the world is a collective light.
No comments have been added yet.
