G-A-Y, Reflections In Time's Eye

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Why me? How many times do we stand in front of a mirror and ask ourselves that question when certain issues start to get on top of us, not least being a prime target for local prejudice and bigotry? Gay men and women may have had more than their fair share in some parts of the world, but we are certainly not alone.

There are some horribly ignorant people out there, not least those who use socio-cultural-religious traditions not only to camouflage ignorance and bad attitude but also use as weapons against us.

Thankfully, though, there are also many lovely people out there too, ready, willing and able to help make this a kinder world. Sadly, things often have to get worse, and people made to suffer, before there is any visible shift for the better. Meanwhile, we can but stay positive, believe that fragile humanity will go from strength to strength, and see to it that our own personal space continues to send the right messages in the hope fewer people worldwide will choose to turn a deaf ear.

Yes, everyone has a choice. I have always found it hard to believe that so many people will choose religion against humanity when they can have both; they are not mutually exclusive, whatever some misguided religious fundamentalists might say, invariably banging on their own personal drum. The latter are a disgrace to their religion. [Evangelical Christians and radical Muslim clerics take note. Oh, yes, some read the blog, ostensibly as an excuse to email me occasional abuse. Ah, but who knows…?]

Mind you, in giving religion such a bad name, fundamentalists do people like me a big favour in forcing us to look elsewhere for a sense of spirituality to sustain us through good times and bad. As regular readers will know only too well, I found mine in nature.

G-A-Y, REFLECTIONS IN TIME'S EYE

Glass cracked while I stood by,

saying what will be, will be,

the mirror (knowing it was lie)

furiously tossing it back at me

I can make a difference if I try,

the looking glass reassured,

yet I saw but a centuries-old lie

made to fall on its own sword

Should we not put people right,

the mirror demanded of me,

wherever blindness to just insight

on the life forces of sexuality?

Come, get a grip. Let’s go, get real,

the looking glass began to plead

as the cracked glass began to reveal

unbidden truths, a hidden need

I closed my eyes then looked again,

saw in a mirror fully restored,

a frightened soul, always on the run,

ready to take its place in the world

History may yet put its wrongs right,

the looking glass reminds me,

those who care, sharing just insight

on the integrity of homosexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009, 2014

Kin to Shadows

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

I wrote today’s poem while recovering from a severe nervous breakdown in the early 1980s. A very significant, but by no means the only cause for what was essentially a collapse of mind, body and spirit lay in an all but zero self-confidence regarding my sexuality.

If attitudes towards mental health problems leave much to be desired now, they were even worse then, and being gay was a prime suspect. If you were gay, even many (if not most) professionals saw it as a root cause for any distress or sense of alienation likely to result in some personal Armageddon.

Creative writing therapy along with the support of a few wonderful people saw me through those awful years, and I like to think I came through it (eventually) a stronger person; not least, stronger for a sense of identity of which no small part is my sexuality. For years, I had lived like a shadow with only a very nebulous relationship with light. Finally, I was out of all that, and would stay there.

Oh, but they didn’t quite go away, those damn shadows, haunting me for years and resisting efforts to shake them off once and for all like flies on a horse's face. But I finally won through, and old age brings with it a peace of mind even love has never (quite) been able to sustain without having to concede more than the occasional battle if not the war. 

KIN TO SHADOWS

We were as shadows by moonlight

haunting a natural world so bleak and bare

because it refused us its colours

We were as shadows by moonlight

chased by bold hunting horn and bugle blast

down country lane and High Street

We were as shadows by moonlight

until Apollo shamed us one enchanting dawn

with nature’s colours brave and bright

As shadows, we ventured by daylight

into a natural world much less bleak and bare

though it still refused us its colours

Less shadowy, we ventured into sunlight,

deaf to each bold hunting horn and bugle blast

down country lane and High Street

Out of shadows, embracing sunlight,

we held hands, hugged each other and kissed,

wore nature’s colours brave and bright

Kin to shadows, the world’s gay lovers,

lifted in mind and spirit by sun, moon, and stars,

often let down by mothers and fathers

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2013

Taking the 'y' Out of Gay

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Readers often ask why I write fiction as well as poetry. Well, why not? Regular readers will know that I've suffered regular bouts of depression all my life; writing in any genre is not only an enjoyable pursuit, but also a lifeline by way of creative therapy. Having anyone read what I write is a nice bonus:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

The first novel I serialized was Dog Roses, a gay-interest story about a young man and his family coming to terms with his being gay; another, Like There’s No Tomorrow is about a woman who returns every year to the hotel in Brighton where her daughter disappeared without trace some 20+ years earlier.

Meanwhile...

When I was young, I’d frequently ask myself why I was gay… until I realized it did not matter. All that mattered was that I got on with my life and learned to let my sexuality play its part. It’s my life, after all.

My sexuality is no more up for being dictated to than my sense of spirituality. I feel fortunate to have learned in time how to relate to both with a passion I try to convey in many of my poems. In this respect, I owe absolutely nothing to the 'education for life' I received in the classroom. Sadly, even these days, gay issues are rarely if ever discussed in British schools; indeed, across the world. If ever a gay person needed support and reassurance regarding their sexuality, it is during our teenage years.

Sexuality is universal. We all have a gene that identifies our sexuality, thereby partly identifying who we are. Nor is sexual identity any less an integral part of the whole person that his or her social, cultural, religious identity... It is a mystery to me, therefore, how even the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority really believe there are no young gay boys and girls out there who will develop and grow into their sexuality as responsible adults with no less integrity or capacity for love and compassion than anyone else?

You will find homophobes in all echelons of all societies, and of all socio-cultural-religious persuasions; some are out, others prefer to stay in their stuffy closets. I have marginally more respect for the former although it’s anyone’s guess why these foolish people insist on displaying their ignorance of the human condition for everyone to see. I guess we can but do our best to encourage them to overcome this blindness of the inner eye in respect to gay men and women before more lives and societies worldwide are made to suffer for it.

This poem is a villanelle.

TAKING THE ‘Y’ OUT OF GAY

We’d meet after school every day,

go to our secret place

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

We took our time, found our way

through love’s maze;

we’d meet after school every day

Two teenagers with plenty to say

about spots on society’s face;

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

A brave maturity, come what may

(some say gay is but a phase);

we’d meet after school every day

At each parting, so longing to stay,

but homework setting the pace,

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

Years on, we came true to our clay,

where others taking our place;

we’d meet after school every day,

learning to take the ‘y’ out of gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010