Here-and-Now, Do-or-Die

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

Now, we often complain that time waits for no one, but better (surely?) than it should stand still, especially when life dumps us between a rock and a hard place? 

Time is no cure-all for the worst wounds life inflicts, but it can make them if not less hurtful, at least more bearable.

Time, after all, effects change and change is what life (and humanity) is all about; whether that change is for better or worse, is not down to Time but to each and every one of us…in our own lives and in the wider world. 

After a bad nervous breakdown in 1979, I felt trapped in a No-Man's Land from which, for a long time, I envisaged no escape, all but gave up on having any future to speak of; employers are understandably wary of any prospective candidates for interview whose CV so much as hints at a history of mental illness. 

I was very fortunate to find an organization willing and able to help me, and started a new job four years later. In the meantime, the support of friends and a penchant for creative writing helped me rise above the worst, and get real again. I started a new job in 1983 and stayed there (in spite of reducing my hours so I would have more time to write) until I retired in 2008.

While recovering from my nervous breakdown, I discovered how not to judge my future by its past. All any of us can do, I suspect, is take the best of our Here-and-Now and do our damndest to shape and reshape it into something we can not only live with but, better still, take personal satisfaction in the making of... So I gave it a go, and not only survive to tell the tale but, better still, continue to enjoy customising my Here-and-Now as best I can.

HERE-AND-NOW, DO OR DIE 

Let's not judge a future by its past

or Time's remit to fly,

scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Whoever swaps slow lane for fast

risks passing life by;

let's not judge a future by its past

Beware should old Memory’s blast

hurt and make us cry,

scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Better feed on the present than fast,

forever asking, "Why?"

Let's not judge a future by its past

Let's not fly our colours at half mast,

(or each day, we die)

scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Grab whatever feel-good lifeline cast

(if not always at first try);

let's not judge a future by its past,

scream ‘Foul!’ for our trailing last

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008, 2019

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since it first  appeared on the blog in 2008.]