http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Given that I often post Gay Awareness poems on both blogs, a reader ‘Marc’ has asked if I
would post another here '‘because my mother suffers with depression and reads your
general blog, but would never dream of reading a gay blog. My brother is gay
and she wants nothing to do with him.’
Oh, but how sad for
the whole family!
I feel very disappointed that this man’s mother has not felt able to be
more understanding of her gay son. Feedback suggests that a growing number of
readers have started dipping into both
blogs during the past year or so and several parents of gay men and women have
said my gay-interest poems have helped
them come to terms with their sexuality. Others, of course, condemn me for "leading decent people astray" as one angry parent put it recently. I can only hope Marc's mother
may eventually join the former and feel able to be no less openly loving and understanding
towards her gay son than towards her other children.
Now, I have been
feeling very low lately and struggling to keep a deeper depression at bay. (An old enemy since childhood, but that's another story for another post/poem.) As
regular readers will know, creative writing always helps me; if I can just begin to write a poem, working on it
over a period of hours, days even, gives me a sense of achievement.
It doesn’t matter if a poem or novel turns out to be good or poor; what matters is that sense of achievement, keeping my head above water in
a hostile sea.
Any creative work
can help keep the pitch black depression at bay; there are many shades of grey
to pass through first and a sense of creating something can restore colour to a
seemingly colourless life.
It doesn’t matter
what we try; it can be writing, music, gardening, catching up with the
decorating or making a paper aeroplane...Nor does it matter if we don’t finish
whatever creative task we’ve set ourselves, so long as we find the motivation
to try; if things don’t work out for
one reason or another, we just have to dig deeper, and try something else.
Never contemplate the
notion of failure. Failure is losing the will to have a go at this or that
through no fault of our own but an inability to cope. Failure is not even being
able to feel that we want to try,
which usually means we have put ourselves through all those murky shades of
grey and are well stuck in that pitch black pit we call depression; the only
way out of it is to heave any sense of failure as far away as we can, give
ourselves a well-deserved pat on the back for that, and then look long and hard within ourselves for the will to
try something, anything that will help
put our lives back on an even keel.
We shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to ask
for help either; being able to find the words to ask for help means we are half-way towards making a full recovery
already.
Sadly some people
don’t begin to understand depression and think we can be jollied out of it. In
the end, though, it is down to us
whether we sink or swim.
Did I say it was
easy?
It has rained a lot
lately. A tree outside my front window is a vivid leafy green and daily plays host
to songbirds of all kinds. One day, it reached out to me with a life-line, and a
GOOD feeling I had been looking for but hadn’t experienced for a while made me
grab it with both hands...
Consequently, today’s
poem...
WISDOM IS A TREE
An
old tree outside my window
assures
me all year round
Earth
Mother’s looking out for me
because
in me she’s found
someone
who cares, always hears,
is
always there for her
as
she’s always here for me
(so
speaks the tree)
An
old tree outside my window
assures
me every day
Earth
Mother’s always here for me
and
doesn’t give a damn
about
sex, sexuality, creed, colour
or
what age we are
if
we’ll be here for her always
(as She for us)
An
old tree outside my window
has
many tales to tell
how
Earth Mother has shed tears
for
the likes of me
who
sought refuge in religion,
but
found no sanctuary
only
a self-centred expectation
(no
salvation)
An
old tree outside my window
took
me to its heart;
Earth
Mother would not have me
thrash
at life in pain
but
as sun and rain nurturing
the
natural world,
seeks
to inspire the likes of me
(wisdom is a tree)
An
old tree outside my window
has
wiped my tears,
falling
much like autumn leaves,
leaving
my branches bare
through
a bleak winter of despair
till love songs, like spring rain,
would
have us rework our history
(so
speaks the tree)
Copyright R. N.
Taber 2012
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