This poem was written in 1996. In many societies and communities, attitudes towards gay people have changed for the better, but many remain bigoted, a carbuncle on the face of human nature. Yet, we are a common humanity driven by a common desire for love and peace…so where, oh, where did humanity lose the plot?
Religious festivals, Christian or otherwise, acknowledge the power of peace and love so if we all seek the same goal, why can’t we put our differences aside and put spiritual aspiration into practice across a world that still has much to learn…?
Many gay people enjoy family life, but many others find themselves rejected by family simply because even love is not enough to overcome old prejudices. Family should be all about love and peace...should it not? (Mind you, mine hasn't for years, as much my fault as theirs,)
Religion, too, is frequently found to contradict itself, not least by being somewhat selective as to whom it offers 'universal' peace and love since one invariably needs to be of the same persuasion for it to be meaningful in either spiritual or practical terms.
Oh, there are exceptions to every unwritten rule, and bless 'em all, the irony being that coming together in peace and love has long been recorded in those very Holy Book from which world religions profess to take their cue.
OH, BUT SANTA'S RUNNING SO-O-OO LATE
Many gay people enjoy family life, but many others find themselves rejected by family simply because even love is not enough to overcome old prejudices. Family should be all about love and peace...should it not? (Mind you, mine hasn't for years, as much my fault as theirs,)
Religion, too, is frequently found to contradict itself, not least by being somewhat selective as to whom it offers 'universal' peace and love since one invariably needs to be of the same persuasion for it to be meaningful in either spiritual or practical terms.
Oh, there are exceptions to every unwritten rule, and bless 'em all, the irony being that coming together in peace and love has long been recorded in those very Holy Book from which world religions profess to take their cue.
OH, BUT SANTA'S RUNNING SO-O-OO LATE
Christmas, a special time of year,
thoughts of home deserve a special tear;
loneliness, greater than a fear
of nights and days, maze without end
(it seems) in worst waking dreams;
whatever creed or need, here's hoping
for the strength to endure, ways
to be sure that - for all our pain - we’ll get
to laugh, find peace and love again
Kisses flaunted on Queer Street,
one for each chair left haunted each year,
one for each chair left haunted each year,
along with with evergreen comfort and joy
just for being there
just for being there
Ah, Christmas! Dreamy yearnings
of the heart, wistful thoughts like mistakes
on a fire; flames risen higher
and higher as we pile on self-blame,
calling out in Someone's name
to restore us, cool and clean - to a world
that needs must hang its head
in shame no more or leave us for dead
at some mindful spirit's door
Who to wipe our tears, calm our fears,
rewrite history, let us hold our heads high
while we negotiate (blindly) a festive maze
of bigotry and hate?
rewrite history, let us hold our heads high
while we negotiate (blindly) a festive maze
of bigotry and hate?
Oh, but Santa running so-o-oo late...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016 (Rev. + new title, 2018)
[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Crisis at Christmas' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]
