In the Thick of It

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

This poem appeared on the blog sometime ago but has since been revised and given a new title.

Somethings never change. Take the evening Rush Hour, for example, not nearly as bad with so many people having to work from home at the moment (if they still have a job at all), but the London Underground carriage I had to stand in yesterday evening was very reminiscent of pre-pandemic days.

Since I turned 70 in 2015, and have needed a walking stick to help me walk better and less painfully, I have experienced as much kindness as thoughtlessness on public transport; someone nearly always offers me a seat while other, perfectly able-bodied types, are careful to avoid my searching eyes. Seats clearly marked a priority for young children, pregnant women and those less able to stand are invariably occupied by those who seem to think this includes, luggage, shopping trolleys, etc. or just like to lean against the dividing pane, the better to listen to music or play/ chat on their mobile phones. Regarding the latter, it is much the same on the streets, people glued to their phones to the extent that my walking stick becomes invisible and any subsequent collision is, of course, my fault. 

Such is human nature, a many-sided creature whatever race, culture, religion, gender, politics or, yes, sexuality too. As a common humanity, we are all in the thick of things together; a cue perhaps for more tolerance and understanding, less stereotyping and rushing to judgement? 

Me, I do my best to take the rough with the smooth, and keep looking on the bright side of life if only because the alternative is too awful to contemplate. Mind you, although looking on that side of life these days can often be compared with peering through a fog… it’s still there (yes, really!) waiting to be rediscovered sooner rather than later, each in our own way and time.

IN THE THICK OF IT

Rush Hour…

Battle cries of anxious souls
vying for attention,
not to mention pride of place
among the pushiest of backpacks
and shopping bags 

Rush Hour…

Old person with a walking stick
trying to catch the eye
of those better able to stand;
in vain, their stick can take the strain,
each to their own

Rush Hour…

Gran with a pram causing chaos,
wheelchair users…
you know the sort, no thought
for the poor nine-to-fiver left dead beat
and paid for a seat

Rush Hour…

Not even making good time, delays
further up the line;
the word is "Someone on the track,
fat chance of anyone getting home soon."
Forecast, heavy rain

Rush Hour…

The worst and best of human nature,
(some) giving-up of seats
to any whose need is plainly greater,
brazen umbrellas urging jam-packs to part,
global finger on 'restart'

Rush Hour, anthology of a weary humanity
up against its own reality…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020