http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I first published this poem on my general blog in 2015; while feedback suggests it proved popular with many readers, others clearly took issue with a gay man writing about spirituality, especially one who does not subscribe to any religion.Well, I am also a poet, and no less susceptible to the haunting atmosphere of ancient woodlands than anyone else. More than one reader said I should delete it, but it remains there to this day.
As for spirituality, why should we suppose that any religion has a monopoly on that? We are all, each and every one of us human, and a living spirit goes with the whole package; indeed, it shapes our lives , depending on how we envisage it which, in turn, affects how we use (or abuse) it.
Regular readers will know that if I have any religion at all, it is nature, and I am inclined to think of myself as something of a pantheist. Nature has always stirred a spirituality in me as timeless as itself, invoking a sense of poetry I struggle to express if only because there are no words in any language that come close to explaining it. In general, we all appreciate explanations, if only because they help us to better understand; any lack of understanding leaves us feeling inept, uncertain, even fearful, and human nature does not tolerate any of these lightly. For many people, their religion and its dogma gives them an understanding of life to which they can relate, helps them to understand life, for all its complex web of truth and lies; it gives them self-confidence, and will see them through good times and bad.
Don't get me wrong. I am not having a go at religion, simply making the point that not subscribing to one (and/or being of an LGBT persuasion) does not make anyone a 'freak of nature' as I have been by called by as many a 'devout' person as the least devout.
I first published this poem on my general blog in 2015; while feedback suggests it proved popular with many readers, others clearly took issue with a gay man writing about spirituality, especially one who does not subscribe to any religion.Well, I am also a poet, and no less susceptible to the haunting atmosphere of ancient woodlands than anyone else. More than one reader said I should delete it, but it remains there to this day.
As for spirituality, why should we suppose that any religion has a monopoly on that? We are all, each and every one of us human, and a living spirit goes with the whole package; indeed, it shapes our lives , depending on how we envisage it which, in turn, affects how we use (or abuse) it.
Regular readers will know that if I have any religion at all, it is nature, and I am inclined to think of myself as something of a pantheist. Nature has always stirred a spirituality in me as timeless as itself, invoking a sense of poetry I struggle to express if only because there are no words in any language that come close to explaining it. In general, we all appreciate explanations, if only because they help us to better understand; any lack of understanding leaves us feeling inept, uncertain, even fearful, and human nature does not tolerate any of these lightly. For many people, their religion and its dogma gives them an understanding of life to which they can relate, helps them to understand life, for all its complex web of truth and lies; it gives them self-confidence, and will see them through good times and bad.
Don't get me wrong. I am not having a go at religion, simply making the point that not subscribing to one (and/or being of an LGBT persuasion) does not make anyone a 'freak of nature' as I have been by called by as many a 'devout' person as the least devout.
AN AFFINITY WITH THE SPIRITUAL NATURE OF ANCIENT WOODLANDS
Leafy dome, a spread of crystal prisms;
like a familiar cheek deflecting its tears
Stained glassiness, images of a sunset;
pink flesh betraying shades of ageing
Moon, shining through, beacon of hope;
human spirit anxious for inspiration
Stars, drawing on mythology and religion
to engage the human mind’s potential
Clouds, siding with the world’s sceptics
shaping like endings to like beginnings
Dome, engaging with our metamorphoses,
inciting we creative dreamers to waken
Glassiness, flushed with dawn’s promises;
pink flesh, responding to nature’s kisses
Birdsong, like distant bells ringing changes;
humanity, left trailing old gods and new
Between earth and sky, our time and space;
to each of us, a prism (some call it Heaven)
Copyright R. N. Taber 2015
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