http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today's poem first appeared on the blog several years ago; it has been slightly revised as I am using the necessity for social distancing during the pandemic to look at and (sometimes) revise or rework old poems. I miss being with friends, of course, but I like to think of my poems and you, my readers, are friends too; it helps me feel less isolated as I live alone and would almost certainly be feeling very lonely otherwise.
As
regular readers will know, I migrated to Australia.in the late 1960's. In many respects,
the whole episode was a disaster, my dream of creating a new life proving just
that - a dream. True, I had been told a pack of half-truths at Australia House
that misled me into thinking I was making the right decision. True also, that I
was in such a panic about getting my life on track that I could not even begin
to see any wood (real or proverbial) for its trees.
At
the time, my deafness still had not been identified as being
'perceptive' deafness. Self-esteem
was not high, since I constantly seemed to be misconstruing (for mishearing)
people and facts. I knew I wasn’t stupid so covered for my mistakes with a
sense of humour that got me out of scrape after scrape, but with which I was
fast losing patience. Having acknowledged - to myself at least - at the
age of 14 (1959) that I am gay hadn’t exactly boosted my flagging
self-confidence since same sex relationships were a criminal offence at the
time. In short, I was a mess and if I’d had anyone to confide in who would have
listened to me instead of judging me, they would certainly have advised me to
face facts and get on with my life. Instead, I ran away from it all.
Ironically, this cleared my head and proved to be my salvation.
If
returning to the UK was seen by family and friends as an admission of failure,
it was one I found able to take on board without feeling a failure. I had
discovered a new self-confidence which, along with a bent for positive thinking
would see me through the rest of my life. Oh, it would be no easy ride (whose
life is?) but I was now equipped with an emotional capacity for looking
on the bright side of life, no matter what; this would come to my aid in
physical and emotional crisis after crisis, not least the death of loved ones,
a severe nervous breakdown and more recently a bad fall during which I
sustained a badly fractured ankle which left me housebound for months.
It
may sound trite but is true nevertheless that sometimes we have to run away
from ourselves to come full circle and find ourselves again, presenting to the
world an invented self that was, in fact, there all the time but needing to be
coaxed out of its customised shell, not led by the nose through various hoops
provided by our so-called ‘betters’ to illustrate invention’s nemesis -
convention. For the first time, I began to believe in myself. The year I
was 25, I became a student teacher, fell at the first hurdle (teaching
practice) on account of my hearing…and compensated by getting a university
education instead. Later, I would do a postgraduate course at Library School
and spend the rest of my working life as a professional librarian. Oh, life has
been no less a roller coaster for all that, but if I haven’t always enjoyed the
ride, at least I live to tell the tale.
At 74, I have been living with prostate cancer (treated with hormone therapy)
for nine years, and despite mobility problems since an accident in 2011, remain
a Happy Bunny…well, most of the time. Many people see my going to Australia all
those years ago as a huge mistake, but I know better for it gave me time to
take a good look at myself and learn from what I found there. Oh, I would go on
to make mistakes and turn a blind eye to some things; it would still be another
ten years or so before I would finally be able to look the world in the eye as
a gay man. But ... one giant leap at a time, yeah?
Now,
I will probably never return to Australia, but it will always occupy a special
place in my heart, Australia and Australians gave me what I had lacked since
early childhood…faith in myself as I am, not as certain others
would have me be. (Yes, I learned the hard way, but is there an easy one…?)
JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME
I sailed away to a place
in
a dream,
only
it wasn’t a dream
but
a get-away,
running
(scared) from a reality
I
couldn’t bear
Water,
water, everywhere,
co-conspirator
of
a loneliness closing in
on
me, secret fears
demanding
open confrontation,
no
hiding place
Sea,
sky, and wind
(day
after day)
expressing
an affinity
with
the chaos
of
mind-body-spirit seeking
a
reconciliation
Cloud
faces wherever
I
look, masks
that
have intimidated me
all
my life, needing
to
be ripped away, exposing
secrets
and lies
Each
landfall, a thought
for
the day;
revisiting
native hosts,
naming
them,
raging
so at some for having
led
me on
I
try befriending people,
failing
miserably,
probably
down to having less
to
say for myself
than
a child’s comic book hero
making
pillow talk
Ah,
but isn’t that exactly
how
it had been,
an
inarticulate desperation
to
do something other
than
dance some light fandango
at
a masque haunt?
A
dawning discernment,
landfall
of a kind
likely
to grow on us for integrating
with
‘live’ art forms
not
incompatible with the science
of
human evolution
Copyright
R. N. Taber 2017; 2020
[Note:
Much of this poem was written in 2017, the year it first appeared on the
blog (under a different title) and is reflected in lines I scribbled aboard the ship that took me to
Australia in 1969 (The Southern Cross) which I recently discovered folded
between the pages of a novel I hadn’t read for years.]
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