I was 18 and discovered my mother had got breast cancer.  I’d had a strange and somewhat prescient dream the night before we’d been told about her diagnosis: a baby floating in water, then a black background and a baby latched on its mother’s breast. ‘That’s me’, I thought, in regard to the baby, and ‘That’s Mum’.  ‘Urgh! How strange!’ I remember thinking in my lucid, semi-dream state. Stranger still in the morning when I learned of her diagnosis. I later wrote this poem (for Mum):                                                 Your blood runs in my blood,                                                                                                                       So in suffering, I feel your pain,                                                                                                                 And the salt within your tears, when you cry,                                                                                                  I share the grains.                                                                                                                                       So when we feel alone and cold,                                                                                                                We need not hide away.                                                                                                                               Fear still can’t taint the hope we hold,                                                                                                 because love runs in our veins.