http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Another (new) tree-related poem today. I was in my late 30’s before I finally came out to the world as a gay man; it was no easier then than it is now for many gay men and women around the world. To many families and friends, it makes no difference, they love us no less for being “different”.
As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human. Most people get that; sadly, though, many never will. Bigotry seems to be a way of life with some people, whether it is homophobia, racism or whatever; they cannot see that one of the wonders of the human as well as natural world is its diversity, without which its common mind-body-spirit would have seen nowhere near the progress it has made over centuries of narrow mindedness and narrow vision.
We can blame a socio-cultural-religious-political upbringing and we might well not be far wrong, but it is no excuse for narrow mindedness; it is up to us all, each and every one of us, l to assert ourselves as bigger and better than that, accept that every person is unique and respect him or her for that instead of homing in on what we choose to see as their flaws and weaknesses. (Let’s face it, we all have our share of those.)
Many people will not admit to bigotry, of course, if only because it is not ‘politically correct’; it is not what we say that counts, though, but how we feel and what we do about it.
APPLAUSE, A MAJORITY VERDICT
I
could hear a voice screaming
begging for aid, to be let out, go free
from
whatever trap it was in,
and
I would have turned a deaf ear
to
its pleas, far too close
for
comfort, demanding I attempt
to
answer its calls, no mind-body-spirit
deserving
any prison walls, my heart aching,
for
it just as dawn breaking
From
my window, I could just se
a
pattern of light among the branches
of
a splendid old tree
that
had been so good a companion
for
more years than now
than
I care to recall, a pattern shaped
much
like a skylark singing
a
cheerful greeting, the anonymous prisoner
still
in pain, and screaming
As
the lark sang, the leafy pattern
of
light began to assume other features,
skylark
still a felt presence
if
conveying less joy than pain, and then
I
saw that lark and prisoner
were
one and the same, nature playing
a
cruel game with me;
in
no time, I could put a name to the leafy face
and the prisoner’s voice
Sure
enough, image once complete,
I
saw myself, trapped in an alien persona,
no
idea what to do or where
to
turn for aid, only able to scream over
and
over again, of a lark no sign,
only
this pathetic specimen of humanity,
its very mind-body-spirit
refusing
to rally, raise the alarm, give me a break;
Apollo, yawning, but half awake
I
reached within myself, daring to go
further
than ever before, needing to know
what's happening to me,
my image at the heart of a tree screaming
to
be set free, could it be
I
was unhappy with my lot, refusing to see it
for
what it was, but a pretence
of
being happy, and suddenly, it’s as clear as day;
I
need to tell the world I’m gay
True,
the world may not want to know,
and there will always be some who choose
a
bigoted agenda for reasons
best
known to themselves, although excuse
enough
provided by this religion
or
that cultural tradition’s setting itself
apart from a common humanity,
for being a shade better, such is the folly, vanity,
and diversity of human nature
Years
on, it’s but a lark’s sweet voice I hear singing,
Apollo
applauding, humanity (still) debating
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