Listening Out for a Love Song

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

Only fools take little or no care to create and store happy memories as they go through life or on wintry days, when a north wind blows, they will have little or nothing by which to warm themselves, take hope, and feel inspired. 

Be sure, second hand memories won’t do the trick.

I have said much the same thing before and a reader got in touch to say that his partner has Alzheimer’s so what use are their happy memories?

Well, I believe that a person does not have to articulate on happy memories to enjoy them; the spirit of that happiness never dies and will sustain us through just about anything. In my experience, where that spirit is weak or absent, the human heart tells a very different story. 

I have known people with Alzheimer's and other forms of  dementia  Carers  have related experiences about loved ones with the illness as it progresses; many of those who have it seem able to convey and live (for much if not all the time) in the spirit of a happy past even though they cannot recall it in much or any detail. Perhaps this is wishful thinking of my part, but an overwhelming impression all the same.

A time may well come for ny of us when we forget the life we've had in the sense that we cannot articulate on it in any detail, but it will have left a trail of felt experiences that never quite leave us; our feelings can take us anywhere we want to be, and we do not need to choose as we are guaranteed a happy ending, if only because mind-body-spirit will be immune to anything less. 

A husband and devoted carer once said much the same thing to me so it isn’t just a poet’s rhetoric. ‘It keeps me sane,” he told me, “knowing that the spirit of the love we have shared for the best part of a lifetime is still there, intact. True, its human container is outwardly more than a shade battered, bruised and all but beyond recognition, but its contents will remain as fresh, pure and precious as ever for as long as at least one of us continues to draw breath. After that…who knows?”

Who, indeed  ...?

LISTENING OUT FOR A LOVE SONG

A north wind, penetrating within,

purging the soul, tearing skin

from a body staring ruin in the face,

and no way back to how it was.

(hope but a leaf or flower away)

swept along the wrong track,

hope fading, fear rising of losing

all mind-body-spirit that makes me 

who I am ... 

Blows a cruel wind, tears freezing,

faces turned heavenwards

seeking aid, mercy, grace, forgiveness

for the error of our ways,

judgments cast in stone to boost egos

begging their superiority
over minorities, teeth showing

like the smile on the face of a tiger

selecting priorities

We persevere. Let fear do its worst,

we shall endure, see the sun shine

in our faces again, belie the damage

of acid rain, camouflage our pain

under slick, blank sheets of copy paper

signifying nothing, signing us up

for whatever the world cares

to have us say we feel, no matter

what’s just or real

Listen. Above a howling of wolves,

a love song making itself felt ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'When the Wind Blows' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]