http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2011.
I need to say a big thank you to
those readers who have been in touch to wish me well with my prostate cancer from the start; biopsy, diagnosed positive, and subsequent battle with years of
hormone therapy. It is good to know there is still a strong sense of common
humanity out there.
Oh, there will always be bigots who
love to pontificate on this and that if only because they are punctilious
pricks huffing and puffing their own self-importance at the doors of anyone
who’ll listen. BUT...there are also many decent people in the world, of all
socio-cultural-religious persuasions, with open minds and open hearts.
Life is nowhere near as black and
white as the world's media love to portray it. Oh, but thank goodness for that!
Meanwhile...
This poem was written in 1999. I
have always been fascinated by the way we can look at history and form opinions
that reflect and compare the way we were then and are now, even as we make and
become history with each passing second.
Regular readers will know I have a
passion for walking by the sea. Sadly, mobility problems prevent me from indulging these days, but I guess that's where memories and imagination come into their own. Oh, I love woodlands too. Wherever, nature has
stories to tell that go back centuries for those who care to listen. For me,
though, it is the sea that has a stronger grasp of humanity and how it has
shaped Earth’s history for good or ill. A common thread running through all the
stories is its capacity for survival.
Oh, people may come and go,
fashions and attitudes change, but hard pressed and war weary as it may be,
humanity (if not all humankind) continues to hold its head up high; and so it
will always be, so long as nature passes on its story and sees to it that
somehow there will always be some of us left to listen.
ANCESTRAL VOICES
Rise and fall, rise and fall, waves
whispering me …
Tell of Adam in the Garden,
Samson at Gaza, Clinton for
president;
Boudicca in warrior dress,
Mother Teresa, an earthy
saintliness;
Humanity, body and soul, History,
stored
(and stirred) in a golden bowl
Oh, spare me your blushes
softly treading sky, retreat behind
veil-mask
for naked come I to it all;
let me bathe in the twilight of
half-gods,
engage with their history, legends,
fantasy,
join them for a photo-call
Rise and fall, rise and fall, such
waves
as whispering me ...
[Note: An earlier version of this
poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber,
Assembly Books, 2001]
[Note: The video - looking a little jaded now, I'm afraid - relates to a different poem but several readers have asked me to repeat it, although I am not sure if yours truly, walking by the sea on Brighton beach some years ago, will be of much interest. wry bardic grin ]
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