Skylark, Metaphor for the Human Spirit

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2010; ten years on, I dare say its message is no less relevant to contemporaneity now than it has ever been, all the more so for the stress imposed on us all by the coronavirus pandemic.

Readers often contact me regarding my posts /poems on rising above depression. Someone had pointed out that Stephen Fry’s television documentary about his own depression aired the subject far better than any poem can. I agree and all credit to Mr Fry. At the same time, while success brings its own tensions, it is also an incredibly motivating factor.

Whoever or wherever we are, overcoming depression is never easy, and will not be rushed. But knowing that you have an army of fans out there who are rooting for you and anxious to enjoy another performance must be very motivating. Few of us are that successful in life. It shouldn’t matter but it does… to most of us, if we are really honest with ourselves. Moreover, self-criticism and a (mis)perception of failure can quickly bring us down. It can take a long time before we even recognise, let alone start assessing our blessings and a degree of self-confidence is restored.

OK, so maybe a poem doesn’t have the impact of a TV documentary, but is that any reason for not writing it? I write about love, nature, sexuality, age, Alzheimer’s, drug abuse and more. No subject is taboo for any poet who has a passionate desire, even need, to share his/her first or second hand experiences of life with others in a positive way. [Whether or not that makes for a good poet is for his or her readers to decide.]

Meanwhile…

I went online at home in 1997 and my email address has always been easy to find. During those early years, I was thrilled to receive emails from readers who had enjoyed poems of mine they had read in various poetry magazines and/or anthologies. Ironically, and aware that I subscribe to no religion the editor chose this one for a Triumph House anthology, Christian Moments (2002); Triumph House is an imprint of Forward Press.

Years ago, while struggling to recover from a bad mental breakdown, I would sleep badly and invariably woke early. At first light, one summer's day, I flung open my curtains in time to watch a lark rising, its song as clear in my ears as if I had been wearing my hearing aids.  My flagging spirits rose with the bird and marked the beginning a of a full recovery; the latter would take a good few years yet, but this was as good a start as any, at the same time affirming a spiritual relationship with nature that I have experienced since childhood and never found in religion. Human nature, too, showed its kinder side and took on a lead role in my recovery; I could not have got through it all without the support of several friends. Oh, and my ghosts; it was if I could hear loved ones who have passed away whispering words of encouragement in my ears every day, striking the same note of joie de vivre as the skylark.

The poem also affirms the spiritual nature of love, any love, to which anyone can relate, regardless of ethnicity, religion, gender or sexuality because love is universal, whether it be for a person, place, pet or Earth Mother, Nature; all of these, but a heartbeat away, and ready to help us out... if we will but let them. 

SKYLARK, 'LIVE' METAPHOR FOR THE HUMAN SPIRIT 

The day I first grieved you
dark clouds passed
over the sun, and I thought
I’d never smile again,
took a long, lonely walk
in teeming rain...
struggling even to picture
your face, listening out 
for your sweet voice,
but saw only a blur of lives
pushing and shoving,
heard only an awful sobbing
as the final curtain fell,
no one clapping audience 
already on the move

Suddenly, the sun, it shone
on my tearful heart;
I heard a skylark singing 
loud and clear,
for its homing in on me,
winging our song, 
as if reassuring the two of us
that love never dies;
as if on cue, I felt you place 
a hand in mine,
saw your eyes smiling at me,
agreeing a take on eternity 
for such as we, partners
in time and (personal) space,
and no final curtain 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2002; 2020 

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised from the original (its genesis) as it appears under the title 'Our Song' in Christian Moments, Triumph House [Forward Press] 2002 and subsequently in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]