M-E, Margins for Error OR In Denial

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

Today’s poem first appeared in the blog in 2013. 

Many thanks to those of you who have been in touch to encourage me in compiling a new collection; the first draft id ready for proofing.I have made one last attempt to interest a mainstream publisher and will know if they are interested within the next six weeks or so; in the past as you know, I have met with a wall of resistance to publishing a collection that includes gay-interest as well as general poems. Time, though, surely, to wake up to the fact that there is more to any of us than our sexuality … or maybe they just don’t like how I write?

Whatever, I will self-publish again if necessary.

Meanwhile … 

Why is it that even in these hard times of coronavirus around the world, there is always a selfish minority refuse to play their part in helping to safeguard the majority. I di not drive so rely on public transport; time and again I see people pulling their masks down over their nose, sometimes mouth as well, to engage with either their mobile phone or laptop. Everyone knows that that Covid-19 id spread by droplets from the nose and mouth, especially in an confined environment … so, whu? 

I look around and sometimes wonder...if we can’t keep faith with each other, what hope for our keeping faith with ourselves? Whatever, it is down to us, no one else. 

We may blame fate, our therapist, even God...but when push comes to shove there is no lasting escape from our having to take responsibility for our own choices. Nor are we entirely to blame for making wrong choices. No one (thank goodness) is perfect. Even so, it can't help to get to know ourselves as we are rather than we (or others) might have us be...?

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”
― William Shakespeare

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson 

This poem is a kenning 

M-E, MARGINS FOR ERROR or IN DENIAL

Come, child
where I lead, don't be afraid;
listen to the murmurings
of your heart, exercise the finer
learnings of your mind;
start to care, understand why
I, too, am always here
for you, trying to be fair,
even kind

See, child
where I walk and let's talk
you and I, exchange 
home truths before they fester
and die in the bowels
of a soul bent on proving
its very existence
by resisting temporal
magnificence

Hear, child,
any wise words of your own;
feel free to ignore mine
if you suspect they threaten
your ivory tower
of pretension, no protection
against a world its own
worst enemy for a divided
humanity

Hear me, mind-body-spirit, in pain
for a heart in denial yet again... 

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Know the Voice, Can't Place the Face' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]