Having been a gay boy and young man at a time when gay relationships were not only a criminal offence here in the UK but gay people were considered the lowest of the low, I am sometimes asked if I am bitter towards the human race in general about those (and subsequent) years. I asked myself the same question on my recent 70th birthday.
Yes, I was once, for a long time, but not now. Nor is it only because we even have gay marriage here in the UK now for much of the human race (given its heterosexual majority) still has a low opinion of gay people.
Years ago, at school my class was discussing the subject of age, I forget why. ‘What’s it like, getting old?’ someone asked of our teacher who was probably barely 40. “Much the same as any other time,” came the wise reply, “You can make peace with it or go to war with it, your choice. I advise the former, though, if only because it helps you think more clearly…”
Everyone laughed although I suspect none of us could have explained why, but nearly 60 years on I have to say he had a point.
SOLDIER, SOLDIER or AN AFFINITY WITH WAR POETS
During wintry attic days,
I would wander Memory Lane
along with a toy soldier
that had kept me company
through ups and downs,
trials and tribulations, crises
and celebrations, tears,
fears, and multiple variations
on just about every theme
life challenges us with taking up,
rejecting out of hand
or putting aside for rainy days
in that Wonderland
where nothing really matters
but human identity,
regardless of creed, ethnicity
sex or sexuality
He stood by me,
the toy soldier, when you left
for someone new,
and my heart was near breaking
as I teetered at an abyss
of desolation, wanting to die
for the loneliness
of not hearing your dear voice,
cherishing your touch,
relishing kisses that had meant
so much for so long,
seeing no way clear to go on…
but the soldier
comforted me even as I cried,
urged me onwards,
head high, the badge of love
worn with pride
He reassured me,
the toy soldier, at my nadir,
it was no reflection
on my being gay that love
had abandoned me,
society slowly hand clapping
its decision,
observing my melancholy
with open derision,
but such is the way of life,
love, human nature,
that even positive thinking
is vulnerable to changes
of heart in others no less likely
to pander to prejudices
than dogmatic political, religious,
social injustices
Time to leave the attic,
said my soldier friend, shake off
the dust and breathe again,
leave wintry days to sad old men,
take a cue from spring rain
nurturing the kinder side of nature,
bringing flowers to bloom,
turning leaves green, waking us up
from hibernation,
making of life a celebration,
(no place for toys)
that men, women, girls and boys
may explore the beauty
of a world too busy arguing
this or that policy
this or that policy
to see to spreading the GOOD news
about diversity
Urged on by the soldier,
to victory over prejudice, hate crime,
bigots preaching what’s best
(while inciting a fickle human nature
to do its worst...)
exposing stereotypes for fake news
winning hearts and minds
to such differences as are no more
than expressions of humanity,
personal identities for the sharing,
caring, earning... less fighting
over who’s right or wrong in history
but coming to heel,
letting ourselves feel for humanity,
access an innate spirituality,
make peace not war with creed,
ethnicity, gender, sexuality...
Together, we’ll seize the day by its
poetry,
for homing in on a common humanity
No comments:
Post a Comment