http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I wrote this poem in 1985 although it has its roots in a relationship years earlier. We have made huge progress since then, in parts of the West at least, exposing disciples of prejudice and bad attitude for the blots they are on the human landscape, and must be thankful for that. I would like to think things are different for gay people everywhere by now but, sadly, that’s (still) just wishful thinking.
A slightly different version of this poem has been published in several poetry magazines and anthologies; it also won a Forward Press poetry (2nd) prize in 2000. It is posted today especially for ‘Aadil and Khidr’ and who contacted me to say that ‘…we can only pray that one day people like us will be free to live our lives the way we want, not according to a family history that forbids us to be openly gay.’ It is also for ‘Raheel’ and ‘Sadya’ as well as ‘Michael and Philip’ who all appear to have found themselves caught up in a similarly tangled web of socio-cultural-religious bigotry.
ORDINARY PEOPLE
Yesterday, we came to tell the world
we’re here, but the world we looked for
was not there so we took out
a joint mortgage on another planet,
of lengthening shadows by day,
cosy silences by night; all earthy modernity
taken fright of two very ordinary people
whose clothes, hair, ears, eyes were unlikely
to have taken anyone by surprise,
but rather we’d have liked to hear it said
by more happy faces in our favourite places
while there was still time
‘See those two? They’re friends of mine.’
We used to pretend it didn’t matter
because we would always have each other,
but now you’re gone, dear friend,
and I'm left to stand alone against a tide
of bitter sympathy that threatens,
just as (in reality) it always did, you and I,
for all we were but two ordinary people,
born to brave much the same fickle earth,
sea, and sky as any other pair in love,
so the twists of wire that heap our grave
conspire with time, its bitter-sweet ironies
to air and put on show
‘See him? His friend was gay, you know.’
Copyright R. N. Taber, 1993; 2013
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as widely published in various poetry magazines before inclusion in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]
I wrote this poem in 1985 although it has its roots in a relationship years earlier. We have made huge progress since then, in parts of the West at least, exposing disciples of prejudice and bad attitude for the blots they are on the human landscape, and must be thankful for that. I would like to think things are different for gay people everywhere by now but, sadly, that’s (still) just wishful thinking.
A slightly different version of this poem has been published in several poetry magazines and anthologies; it also won a Forward Press poetry (2nd) prize in 2000. It is posted today especially for ‘Aadil and Khidr’ and who contacted me to say that ‘…we can only pray that one day people like us will be free to live our lives the way we want, not according to a family history that forbids us to be openly gay.’ It is also for ‘Raheel’ and ‘Sadya’ as well as ‘Michael and Philip’ who all appear to have found themselves caught up in a similarly tangled web of socio-cultural-religious bigotry.
ORDINARY PEOPLE
Yesterday, we came to tell the world
we’re here, but the world we looked for
was not there so we took out
a joint mortgage on another planet,
of lengthening shadows by day,
cosy silences by night; all earthy modernity
taken fright of two very ordinary people
whose clothes, hair, ears, eyes were unlikely
to have taken anyone by surprise,
but rather we’d have liked to hear it said
by more happy faces in our favourite places
while there was still time
‘See those two? They’re friends of mine.’
We used to pretend it didn’t matter
because we would always have each other,
but now you’re gone, dear friend,
and I'm left to stand alone against a tide
of bitter sympathy that threatens,
just as (in reality) it always did, you and I,
for all we were but two ordinary people,
born to brave much the same fickle earth,
sea, and sky as any other pair in love,
so the twists of wire that heap our grave
conspire with time, its bitter-sweet ironies
to air and put on show
‘See him? His friend was gay, you know.’
Copyright R. N. Taber, 1993; 2013
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as widely published in various poetry magazines before inclusion in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]
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