Mind-Body-Spirit, Tide of Life

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

Another new poem today as a direct result of being ill recently, in a lot of pain, forced to consider my vulnerability in so far as just how far my hold on life will take me, and why.

Sometimes, life may well seem to have taken us a step too far; we lose heart, and even hope for a better tomorrow ceases to ring anything but hollow in our ears. We play the blame game, of course, make excuses for its being our own two feet that have made the steps bringing us to what  is potentially a point of no return. Tired of platitudes and various emotional blackmail from one source of another, we choose the ultimate escapism.

Regular readers will know that I attempted suicide some 40+ years ago; why or how I eventually arrived at that point in my life is less important than it was no cry for help, I meant it. No, I did not walk down to any sea's edge and contemplate drowning, nothing as poetic, but overdosed on painkillers. I was unconscious for a good 35 hours and woke just long enough to walk in my bare feet to the nearest GP surgery, not far from where I was living at the time. I only remember telling someone I had taken an overdose, and then nothing until I woke again in hospital the next morning. What I do remember, though, was an overwhelming sense of relief that I had failed to end my life, and a sense of hope that sprung from some unknown source with which I had the vaguest sense of having engaged while I was unconscious.

Years later, I chanced to stay over at a seaside resort I hadn't visited before and took a night stroll along its beach on my own. I experienced the strangest sense of déjà vu and a sense of empathy with moon and stars such as inspired this poem. A full moon wore a non-judgemental face, yet I sensed it was applauding my presence there after having chosen long ago to leave the world; in free fall at the time, if only for feeling sorry for myself; if the poet in me likes to think Earth Mother made me see sense at the last minute, the  greater part of me prefers to entertain the idea that there is  a self-awareness in us all that is stronger than anything life can throw at us, deservedly or not.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, TIDE OF LIFE

Sick at heart and weary of life,
I wandered down to the beach, waves
lapping gently at my ears
as if in sympathy with my worst fears,
empathising, too, with feelings
of being let down by a world always
making out it has my best interests at heart
if rarely even asking what they are... 

I throw a pebble at a bright star
that has never done me harm, only ever
lit my way through the dark,
or had it lured me here, daring me leave
a world whose so-called 'betters' care
most about winning through at any cost,
barely token attention paid to Earth Mother
but for selfish ends and rewards? 

Waves grown feisty, greeting me
by way of hailing a friend, as children do
when they sense a kindred spirit,
up for whatever, no matter grown-ups
left with no recall as to engaging
with grasshoppers or hitching a ride
on a daydream to some Never-Never Land
straight out of a favourite storybook 

Approaching the sea's edge now,
white horses eager enough to take me away
from all this...what, exactly?
Failure, the humiliation gnawing away
at my insides, giving Death
advance warning of my arrival at its door,
on a white horse, too, if but to make the point
I could have done so much better...

I glance upwards, and Moon's face
meets my accusing look, holding it there
as if daring me to look away
before it has had its say, and I am all ears.
the sum of my fears overtaking
even an overwhelming need for such peace
beyond imagination at this, a last-ditch resort
in choosing suicide, the ultimate escapism

A familiar face, blinking back tears,
not least for a human race ever vulnerable
for its empathy with romance,
and wishful thinking, leading it a merry dance
across a Landscape of Hope, 
no less evident in the poetry of moon by night
or sun by day, leaving humanity as free to accept
as renegade on its various responsibilities...

A careworn face, its cavernous eyes 
conveying the darker prose of pain, loneliness,
despair and distress all humanity
knows only too well, yet also a heads-up
to a kinder, more caring side, 
not above letting its hair down having fun, 
inclined to positive thinking, less so to self-pity
for getting (far) less than it bargained for...

White horses, urging me to - whatever,
the star I flung abuse at still shining brightly
as if calling on an act of will to rise above
such negatives as humanity so loves
to fall back on by way of making excuses
for doing nothing rather than try, try, try,
and try again, nothing ventured, nothing gained,
(some platitudes worth considering....?)

Moon's face, now scarred by passing clouds,
looking further into me (and taking me with it)
than any journey by land, sea or air
while touching base with no distant eternity
but an inner Here-and-Now,
ours to chance as we may, write ourselves
into its Play on Words or take a back seat, blame
inactive sense for our lack of understanding

Only darkness now, neither moon nor stars

to see me ride a white horse into Never-Never; 

ebb tide, exposing ugly mud banks

empathising with my every missed heartbeat,

suggesting Freedom Road less the way 

to a murky death than a golden opportunity,

riding on chance, but wiser to stay in the saddle

than trust any metaphor to know better?

Suddenly, a new energy surge in me, at one

with land-sea-sky, leaving white horses to rear 

at will, no need for any means of escape
better than none, ready to face the world again,
if only to help dry Earth Mother's tears 

prove myself worthy of a veteran moon's faith

in far more intuitive heavens than I had believed,
the will to live and let live in me restored...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019