Leaden sky hangs heavy over Ashley River.
Hints at rain. Moisture-laden wind promises it.
I, water-uneasy, hope for whitecaps: small crafts
cancellation. Blackwater waves tease white, stop shy
of cresting. I worry-shuffle dock edge, puzzle
an entry to this plain-white, canoe-like longboat.  

I contemplate staying dockside  

but instead with eight newbies, line up, life-vested
secure and shiver in February cool mist.
Seasoned veterans separate us in three sections:
First section: leaders (set rhythm of stroke and pace)
Second section: engine room (pace determiners)
Third section: rockets (power, propel boat forward).  

I am a rocket.  

Long-haulers— caller, steerer, another rocket —
board, our count now: twelve sister warriors, two abreast.
Paddles up! Boat breath quickens. Take it away! I
reach/lean forward, extend over choppy water
water-bury my blade deep: hard-pull parallel.
My radiation-inflamed pectorals rebel.  

I groan.  

My seatmate reassures: We’ve all been where you are.
You’ll get through this. I hard-push the edge, breathe beyond,
drive paddle deep, stroke back, muscles resist…release.
Stroke – Stroke – Stroke – caller voice-drums cancer-defying
cadence. Line steady we forge forward, fire-breathing
women red-scaling our plain white boat, our paddles  

grow dragon claws.  

Our heartbeats drum, fire finding water. Let it run…