http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Now, for years after I came out as an openly gay man, I hated those who had locked me in that horrible closet throughout my youth and young manhood. Oh, I’d broken free often enough but I’d always scurry back for fear of being caught enjoying my life, being myself.
Break free, did I say? Huh!
When I finally made a break for freedom and stayed free, I was so haunted by that damn closet that, , try as I might< i could never quite rid my mind of all that torment and anger. But the torment was over, apart from the occasional homophobic ignoramus trying to revive it, and I could deal with that. [Didn’t I have years of practise?] So why was I still so angry it was chewing me up?
Yes, I was (and still am) angry for people all over the world still having to endure the same torments for their sexuality as had been inflicted on me. But it was more than that, much more; it was an inner rage that was turning in on me and threatening to destroy me...until it dawned on me that the greater part of how I felt wasn’t anger at all, but hate.
Oh, the anger is still there, but I’ve managed to lock the hate in its own dark closet and throw away the key. You don’t have to be a religious person (and regular readers know I’m not) to discover forgiveness.
This poem is a kenning.
STORM LANTERN
I am the child that cried
in the night but no one came
to see why,
thinking it was right I should
get used to living
with this bogeyman, that ghost,
and not be afraid
of monsters in the playground
I dreaded the most
I am the teen that cried,
after playing truant from school
then lied about
gay places visited, people seen,
when all I wanted
was for someone to listen to me,
hear why I don’t always do
as I should, know I’m not all
they would have me be
I am the man that cried
in the night until someone came
to ask why,
listened to what I had to say,
drove my ghosts away,
demythologized the Bogeyman
under my bed,
last words at the break of day
that being gay is OK
World, bully terrorising its victim
till I, Forgiveness, chose freedom
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016
[Note: This poem is a slightly but significantly revised (2016) version of that which appears in 1st eds. of On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation].
Now, for years after I came out as an openly gay man, I hated those who had locked me in that horrible closet throughout my youth and young manhood. Oh, I’d broken free often enough but I’d always scurry back for fear of being caught enjoying my life, being myself.
Break free, did I say? Huh!
When I finally made a break for freedom and stayed free, I was so haunted by that damn closet that, , try as I might< i could never quite rid my mind of all that torment and anger. But the torment was over, apart from the occasional homophobic ignoramus trying to revive it, and I could deal with that. [Didn’t I have years of practise?] So why was I still so angry it was chewing me up?
Yes, I was (and still am) angry for people all over the world still having to endure the same torments for their sexuality as had been inflicted on me. But it was more than that, much more; it was an inner rage that was turning in on me and threatening to destroy me...until it dawned on me that the greater part of how I felt wasn’t anger at all, but hate.
Oh, the anger is still there, but I’ve managed to lock the hate in its own dark closet and throw away the key. You don’t have to be a religious person (and regular readers know I’m not) to discover forgiveness.
This poem is a kenning.
STORM LANTERN
I am the child that cried
in the night but no one came
to see why,
thinking it was right I should
get used to living
with this bogeyman, that ghost,
and not be afraid
of monsters in the playground
I dreaded the most
I am the teen that cried,
after playing truant from school
then lied about
gay places visited, people seen,
when all I wanted
was for someone to listen to me,
hear why I don’t always do
as I should, know I’m not all
they would have me be
I am the man that cried
in the night until someone came
to ask why,
listened to what I had to say,
drove my ghosts away,
demythologized the Bogeyman
under my bed,
last words at the break of day
that being gay is OK
World, bully terrorising its victim
till I, Forgiveness, chose freedom
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016
[Note: This poem is a slightly but significantly revised (2016) version of that which appears in 1st eds. of On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation].
No comments:
Post a Comment