http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
As I grow old(er) I often find myself, for better or worse, on Memory Lane. True, it has more than its share of potholes, but there are some nice, half-forgotten surprises too.
I once confided in an old sea dog that, much as I loved the sea, it was something of a puzzle to me that I had never wanted to be a sailor. As I am from a seafaring family, I could only suppose it was in my blood. ‘The sea, perhaps, or nature… Whatever, it’s a feeling for freedom you have,” he told me, “and don’t you ever lose it, my lad, because it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. Ask anyone who has ever sailed the sea or climbed a mountain…anyone who talks to nature and to whom nature talks back.
At the time, I was a closet, gay teenager, but it was not until I finally came out of that awful closet to stay that I really understood what he meant.
It's not only gay men and women, either, who are sometimes forced into a dark closet by various socio-cultural-religious influences being brought to bear upon them; love may cross such divides, but family, friends, and (in some countries) society at large may well feel unable to condone, let alone follow. It is one of the world’s greater tragedies that far too many divides of a socio-cultural-religious nature not only exist but continue to threaten and often destroy the hope of a common humanity ever living in peace. Even so, it is some consolation that love will invariably have the last laugh and word.
Now, people laugh when I speak of going to the seaside and communing with the waves or going for a walk in the country and talking to the trees… Well, let them.
A FEELING FOR FREEDOM
Feels like centuries ago
we’d sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(much like us) asking of humanity
only to be free
Feels like centuries ago
we ran through the streets of town
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me and ghosts
(as scared as us) pursued by cries
that would see us slaves
Feels like centuries ago
we’d hear seagulls calling and run
to some misty-blue horizon
just you, me, and ghosts
(lovers, too) left to nature’s devices
among secrets and lies
Feels like centuries ago
we were discovered making choices
on some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(found peace) in the wake of history’s
issues with compromise
Feels like centuries on
we sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue, horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(much like us) asking of all humanity
only to be free
Misty-blue tears at the sea’s edge,
sum of our sacrilege
Copyright R. N. Taber 2013
As I grow old(er) I often find myself, for better or worse, on Memory Lane. True, it has more than its share of potholes, but there are some nice, half-forgotten surprises too.
I once confided in an old sea dog that, much as I loved the sea, it was something of a puzzle to me that I had never wanted to be a sailor. As I am from a seafaring family, I could only suppose it was in my blood. ‘The sea, perhaps, or nature… Whatever, it’s a feeling for freedom you have,” he told me, “and don’t you ever lose it, my lad, because it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. Ask anyone who has ever sailed the sea or climbed a mountain…anyone who talks to nature and to whom nature talks back.
At the time, I was a closet, gay teenager, but it was not until I finally came out of that awful closet to stay that I really understood what he meant.
It's not only gay men and women, either, who are sometimes forced into a dark closet by various socio-cultural-religious influences being brought to bear upon them; love may cross such divides, but family, friends, and (in some countries) society at large may well feel unable to condone, let alone follow. It is one of the world’s greater tragedies that far too many divides of a socio-cultural-religious nature not only exist but continue to threaten and often destroy the hope of a common humanity ever living in peace. Even so, it is some consolation that love will invariably have the last laugh and word.
Now, people laugh when I speak of going to the seaside and communing with the waves or going for a walk in the country and talking to the trees… Well, let them.
A FEELING FOR FREEDOM
Feels like centuries ago
we’d sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(much like us) asking of humanity
only to be free
Feels like centuries ago
we ran through the streets of town
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me and ghosts
(as scared as us) pursued by cries
that would see us slaves
Feels like centuries ago
we’d hear seagulls calling and run
to some misty-blue horizon
just you, me, and ghosts
(lovers, too) left to nature’s devices
among secrets and lies
Feels like centuries ago
we were discovered making choices
on some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(found peace) in the wake of history’s
issues with compromise
Feels like centuries on
we sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue, horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(much like us) asking of all humanity
only to be free
Misty-blue tears at the sea’s edge,
sum of our sacrilege
Copyright R. N. Taber 2013
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