Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2014.
Whenever spring homes in on us, it
can often seem that we are emerging from a winter of the heart.
So ...roll on spring, by which time the Covid-19 pandemic will, hopefully, be well and truly on the wane here in the UK and around the world, sufficiently at least to let us get on with our lives with a degree of normality as comparable with pre-pandemic conditions as possible. Meanwhile, we can but take each day as it comes, trusting nature's healing spirit of renewal - along with human nature's flair for positive thinking - to work their magic.
Below, find an early poem, written some 40+ years ago while I was still recovering from a severe nervous breakdown and
had returned to writing as the best form of creative therapy I know. I was a
psychological mess at the time, not least over my sexuality. Having been in and
out of the closet for years, I was confused about the best course of action
likely to see me recover and return to mainstream life and society.
Now, it’s bad enough that we don’t
always listen to what people (or nature) tell us even when they have our best
interests at heart; worse still, we don’t always listen to ourselves. We may
well not want to hear what we are being told, but there comes a time when
turning a deaf ear to certain deeper truths and challenges has to stop.
Some 40+ years ago, I had all but lost faith in
everything, especially myself ... until a still, small, voice helped me reconcile with both nature and human nature, constantly reminding and reassuring me that seeking encouragement, reassurance, and inspiration in both - especially the former - can do
wonders for healing self-esteem and self-confidence. Even so, while the experience of a nervous breakdown left me with a strong sense of spirituality, it is not surprising, perhaps, that Pantheism is as close as I come to bonding with any sense of religion.
The trick is to listen to whatever that still, small voice within us has to say
G-A-Y, LOVE SONGS
I asked of a rose in springtime,
will love ever come my way?
Its petals, they stayed closed to
me,
no word did I hear it say
I asked of a rose in summer,
why does love stay away?
Though it opened up its heart to me,
not a word did it I hear it say
I asked of a rose in autumn,
why love but passes me by?
Yet, even with its sweet, dying
breath,
it would not tell me why
I flushed out a rose in winter,
(in Earth Mother’s arms it slept)
began to cry and begged to know why
this icon of love, its secrets kept
It was Earth Mother answered me
with each snowflake that fell,
‘Oh, never ask why love passes you
by
or pass you by, it surely will…’
I passed by a rose another season,
gave myself to you the same day
just for hearing it open its heart
to me,
a love song, proud and gay
Copyright R. N. Taber 2014, 2020
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