It is what it Is... or is it?

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

Now and then readers email me  to ask if I consider myself an atheist or agnostic because I am gay and, if not, why not…?

Over the years (I'm in my 70's now) I have lost count of the times I have been told by members of various religious groups that I will go to hell for being gay. A colleague at work once told me that she enjoyed working with me, and she was sorry I would go to hell (for being gay.) If we had not been in a busy public library at the time, I would have given her as good as I was getting, but I kept a tactful silence. If she interpreted my silence as a respectful one, she could not have been more wrong; her religion I respect, yes, its bigotry, no. Fortunately not all religious people are bigots, and I have felt privileged, indeed, to meet some of them.

So ... God is a homophobe? Evangelical Christians and the majority of Muslims are by far the worst, for being homophobic, but I exclude none. (While Judaism is inclined towards a liberal attitude towards LGBT issues, most Orthodox Jews stop well short of sanctioning LGBT relationships.) For this reason, I am publishing this post/poem on both blogs; it first appeared in 2017. Regular readers will know that I have every respect for all religious faiths, but as a human being (who happens to be gay) I have the right of reply ... don't I?

At school, 50+ years ago, we were once asked to write an essay about ‘Secrets’. This was preceded by a class discussion on the subject during which we were all agreed that secrets are hard to keep, especially from family and friends. Someone made an unkind remark about gays not being ‘out’ to which the teacher responded with a wry shrug that “Time outs us all, in the end. The trick is to get in first, before gossip and ignorance can do their worst.’ This comment certainly livened up the debate, but I missed most of what was being said for dwelling on the concept of Time ‘outing us all in the end.’ It is so true. Gay or straight, it is a rare person that has no secrets; invariably these come out, if not during their lifetime then in the course of events following their death.

I only came out to a few people until a bad nervous breakdown in my 30’s finally rid me of all self-consciousness about my sexuality. Even then, though, I trod carefully through what I had known for years as a minefield of public opinion. The breakdown had lasted several years before I found the confidence to face the world again. During this time, I explored human nature through avid reading and writing poetry, both of which had already stood me in good stead at university.

Being gay is, of course, only one aspect of human nature, one part of a complex whole. It has always been the whole that interests me although, obviously, I have a special interest in the gay aspect. Some gay people seem to find it strange that I write general as well as gay-interest poetry. But…why not? Being gay is a very significant part of who I am, yes, but I can hardly ignore the rest of me, those other parts that make me who and what I am. Well, can I...?

In my 70’s now, I often look back and wish I had done things differently (as in ‘better’) but I guess we are all victims of our circumstances up to a point, and my circumstances have often conspired against me. Yet, I am no victim in the sense that I made my own choices, albeit not always the right ones.

Many who subscribe to a religion have told me I will forfeit Heaven and go to Hell although I suspect we make our own heaven and hell as our lives take shape by our own hand. So is death the end of all things, I wonder? I have no idea, but as a nature lover, take comfort from the way nature nurtures itself, and spring follows winter. Love, too, never dies even as lovers and loved ones pass away. I suppose I put what Faith I have in nature and love rather than in any religion since, from both, I have always taken a strong sense of spirituality. As to whether or not that sense of spirituality is seen as a sufficiently positive force in my poetry  to pass into living memory after my death, only time will tell.

No agnostic or atheist, me, but a pantheist. 

IT IS WHAT IT IS…OR IS IT?

Time running out,

mind-body-spirit left floundering

among regrets

for missed opportunities, rushes

to misjudgement,

and plain, everyday mistakes

with consequences...

for there can be no payback

equal to the task

of making reparation for any flaws

in humankind

No sense of a God

likely to extend any forgiveness

to the likes of me,

unable to relate to any Heaven

(potential safe haven)

throughout a lifetime of struggling

to make sense of dogma

interpreted by Religion’s finest

as leave to preach

a Politics of the Heart making sense

of humankind

How then to approach

the End of Things in the absence

of any New Beginning

other than as some deactivated spirit

gone to ashes, dust,

someone else’s (imperfect) memory,

there to endure

a kindly ‘eternity’ that sits more easily

on the tongue than ‘death’

while advocating spiritual qualities

in humankind?

I have asked this of poems

that have dogged my every footstep

from child to senior,

no one answer offered (or confirmed)

but a sense of moving

through time (other than growing old)

acting out tales passed on

by ghosts about leaving footprints;

no one left behind

but (together) creating a continuum

called humankind

To each, our own way,

engaging with the greater mysteries

of life and death,

finding such comfort as we can,

pinning our finer hopes

on what’s better, kindlier, said

and done, wiser choices

than less so, promise nurtured

or left unfulfilled

for an indefinable social conscience

to define us as it will

Whatever, it is what it is, and Time

will out us all one way or another…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017; 2020

[Note: This poem/ post also appears on my general poetry blog today.]