Beneath the ancient tree so vast,
A lineage bound by shadows cast.
Its roots entwined with time and soil,
A silent witness to life’s toil.
In whispered leaves, the stories flow,
Of kin whose struggles softly glow.
Through generations, threads are spun,
A pattern seen yet understood by none.
Clusters bloom like spectral flames,
Etching in bark their silent names.
Breast, and colon, forms take hold,
In tales both harrowing and bold.
A puzzle shrouded, parts unseen,
No single key, no faulted gene.
Yet in its veins, a map of risk,
A legacy both bleak and brisk.
For early signs, a watchful eye,
A vigilance beneath the sky.
In youthful faces, echoes gleam,
Of battles lost and hopeful dreams.
Not wholly fate, nor choice alone,
An interplay of seeds once sown.
The earth, the air, the lives they lead,
In harmony or toxic deed.
To counsel sought, and tests devised,
The truths of lineage realized.
With each new dawn, a chance to bear,
The weight of knowledge, love, and care.
For though the tree may bear its scars,
Its branches stretch to reach the stars.
And in its shade, resolve is found,
To break the chains that tightly bound.
Familial cancer, a solemn thread,
Yet hope still dances where fears tread.
Through science, hearts, and shared embrace,
We honor life, we find our place.
