This poem first appeared on the blog some years ago; it is repeated today at the request of several readers who have clearly followed the blog for some time, and many thanks for that..
Years ago, someone put it to me that we may well be asked to fight many battles in this life; against poverty, hunger, disease, loneliness, prejudice, culture, religion, and even ideas that sometimes become confused with ideals. Invariably, whatever the rights and wrongs of the matter, it is plain enough who is our enemy and where the battle lines are drawn. Only on the battlefields of love is it not only sometimes unclear just who the enemy is, but also where and when to draw a line.
Whatever, no LGBT person should let the less enlightened among us put us down simply for our sexuality. Everyone is different and it can never be said often enough that our differences don't make us different, just human.
As the COVID 19 pandemic continues to spread, we all - whatever our race, religion or sexuality - need to sat calm, positive, and think of others - especially health and other shift workers - whenever we may be tempted to buy more groceries than we need.
Whatever, no LGBT person should let the less enlightened among us put us down simply for our sexuality. Everyone is different and it can never be said often enough that our differences don't make us different, just human.
As the COVID 19 pandemic continues to spread, we all - whatever our race, religion or sexuality - need to sat calm, positive, and think of others - especially health and other shift workers - whenever we may be tempted to buy more groceries than we need.
SOMETIMES, LOVE ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS or HARVEST HOME
I met a man in a gay bar,
felt his passion feed on mine,
let him take me to a place
for sex divine, and later, spent
and weary, as relaxing
in my arms he lay, confided
a dilemma in being black, closet
and gay
and weary, as relaxing
in my arms he lay, confided
a dilemma in being black, closet
and gay
He hadn’t told his family,
said they wouldn’t understand,
but accuse him of betraying
their homeland;
but this is my home now,
he told my heart, and hot tears
on my skin felt like flames
licking at his fears;
his mouth on mine, we
made love again, again, again;
me, wishing we had forever;
he, dousing his pain
Why do those we love
demand we make such choices,
see us all but devoured
in a conflagration of kisses?
Years on, I often wonder
if he found the strength to say
to friends, family and workmates
‘I am gay’
He is good man (and lover)
deserving better...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020
[Note: This poem first appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; alternative title added later.]
Cover photo: The folly at Virginia Water
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