Is it fair?
Is life fair?
Kids make sure you know about that.
It’s not fair, you’re not fair, and that wasn’t fair!!!
Justice, balance, kids see it.
And, they voice, identify, truly understand it.
Sitting at his office, he told us, if you were to be unlucky to have a cancer, you are lucky to have this one.
This one has a drug just perfect for it.
Knocks out the cancer cells,
You even get to keep your hair!
I sat by him, while the pump purred the miracle drug into his veins.
I drank the instant coffee, as the pot boiled the water, continuously, for all of us, sitting by beds, chairs, waiting for the miracle to happen.
Its years later, the miracle occurred.
Hair is still on him, growing, the bad cells are gone.
He is alive, and kicking.
Others aren’t, died, sadly, described as battles, journeys, and fights. Endless fundraisers, ribbons, badges, there’s always an event organise, or a product endorsed to support.
Did we win? I walk in the ward with him, for his check ups, like the seasons, booked in to check him as the months past.
I never really feel elated, joy, it’s gone.
For, I hear the pumps whirring; I see the pot boiling, the steam flowing from a freshly made instant cup of hope.
They are the others, obeying the instructions of chemotherapy, waiting for the beeps to free them, disband the tubes, get up and walk away.
I imagine, the pumps thrown out by smiling bald headed people. Watching like children at the smashing pieces flying off the pavements below.
I dream of walking on the bits of plastic.
My shoe crunching like an astronauts step on the bald head of the moon.