The Extra Mile

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

Religion or no religion, love has its own sense of spirituality that will always go the extra mile with us regardless of our colour, creed, sex or sexuality...or what other people might say.

Religion or no religion, love has its own sense of spirituality that will always go the extra mile with us regardless of our ethnicity, religion, gender or sexuality...or what other people might say.

THE EXTRA MILE

Eyes, falling among petals, 
veins of flushed cheeks baring all
where roughly torn

Over cold stone, trickles
a crimson grief, upon raging fingers
fall scalding tears

By chance alone, a friendly breeze
has spilled nature’s blood, rebel heart
tearing, crushed

Petals, like confetti on the ground
bodies whimpering without a sound,
seeds in the wind

Among the wreaths, a rose laid low,
yet as we part, risen again, a crowning
of defiant buds 

O, rose, so glorious a resurrection!
Among splendid petals poised to open,
hope springs eternal

One by one, the letters of our names 
smash the stone, pricking the pool like 
life's sweeter tears

Star-crossed lovers, sending ripples 
across the world by way of messaging 
a renewed affinity

Copyright R. N. Taber 1993; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in anthologies How Can You Write a Poem When You’re Dying of AIDS?, Cassell, 1993 and Momentous Occasions, Triumph House (Forward Press), 2000 plus subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]













RESURRECTION or LOVE, THE EXTRA MILE 

I drop my eyes into a flowery pool,
see the veins of one gay cheek split,
baring a thread of ash light

Against cold stone, trickles
a crimson grief. On angry fingers,
fall hot tears

By chance alone, a friendly breeze
has spilled this, Nature’s blood; not so,
a rebel heart - tearing, crushed

Petals, like confetti on the ground;
our bodies, whimpering without sound;
seeds, scattered in the wind

Among the wreaths, a rose laid low
yet as I make
to go…

Risen again, newly crowned!
No glad petals to shine, but looks
familiar embracing mine

One by one, the letters of your name
break off the stone,
prick the pool

This the moment, this the Peace;
you and I together, making ripples
forever

Copyright R. N. Taber 1993; 2015


[Note: A slightly different version of this poem first appeared in anthologies How Can You Write a Poem When You’re Dying of AIDS?, Cassell, 1993 and Momentous Occasions, Triumph House (Forward Press), 2000 and subsequently in 1st eds. of Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]