Going the Distance

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I have written several poems about my feelings regarding my having been diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011; it is not thought to be aggressive, and ‘more of a pussycat than a tiger’ according to my consultant. .

A neighbour (who chose a different course of action) thinks I am ‘courting death’ by changing my mind about having radiotherapy and settling for hormone therapy. He could well be right of course. It is certainly not a decision that would suit everyone. Nor, I have to say, is it one that I have taken lightly. However, I don’t see my decision as courting death, but courting life. Indeed, basic instinct tells me (as it did before I panicked and opted for treatment) that I have a good few years left in me yet. Besides, it is a fact that more men die with prostate cancer then from it. Yes, I could be making a mistake. Let’s hope I’m not, yeah?

Where there’s life there’s love, and where there’s love that’s enough for me. I may not have a partner now, but I still love him; others, too, who have been or still are in my life. I trust them and Earth Mother to see me through as I run time's gamut, sustained by happy memories and creating new ones that may well see me in good stead as I cross the ultimate dividing line that both separates and unites us all.

“Time is the longest distance between two places.” 
― Tennessee Williams - The Glass Menagerie

GOING THE DISTANCE

Death comes to us all,
even if its when, where, how
but as hands on a clock
inviting us to rustle up good times,
and serve them to Memory,
always up for any leftovers
from a favourite dish created
with loving hands, saying more
than any words  

Tick-tock, tick-tock,
hands of an alarm clock usually
moving too fast for us
even as we relax in each other’s arms
after making time for love
before the work ethic demands
we answer its call,
steer a course as best we can
to its shores 

Tick-tock, tick-tock,
hands of cloud clocks inviting us
to run races we cannot win,
but can still have fun for earning a place
in the eternal role call
of winners, losers and also-rans
reeled off by commentators
making love to their microphones
in soundproof boxes 

Life embraces us all,
though we appear to be caught up
in the when-and-why
of various notches on multiple clock faces
forever winding us up
and defying us to get the better 
of time, feed a consciousness
eager for any leftovers from dishes
created with loving hands 

[London: August 5th 2011] 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011, 2019