At 70, I often find myself turning the pages of memory and feeling inspired by what I find there, just as I did at the time…
People, places, things we do and words we say in response to whatever or whomever…all are filed in archives in the mind. We may well have mixed feelings about browsing them from time to time, but they remind us who we were and how we became who we are now…so never a waste of time.
Never, either (always) too late to change the Here and Now where the archives may suggest we might at least try.
This poem is a villanelle.
G-A-Y, AMONG EARTH MOTHER'S BLESSINGS
In an ochre mist
of spring twilight on a lake,
we gay lovers kissed
The bigot’s fist,
our every bone would break
in an ochre mist
Sworn to resist
all prejudice for truth’s sake,
we gay lovers kissed
Love, once missed
among fair copies, mandrake
in an ochre mist
Choices addressed,
a kinder future ours to make,
we gay lovers kissed
Feeling as blessed
as dreamers unafraid to wake,
in an ochre mist,
we gay lovers kissed
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
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