My Canine Partner

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

Today's poem was written with a close friend's mother, Sheila, in mind; she was disabled in a car accident some years ago. Her first Assistant Dog, Juneau, sadly long since deceased and replaced by others, was trained by Canine Partners, a UK charity transforming the lives of people with disabilities by partnering them with highly trained assistant dogs. 

We all have our personal battles to fight, disabled people more than most. Assistant Dogs are skilled in helping their owners  confront and overcome all manner of obstacles, emotional as well as physical. Sheila is no exception, an  inspiration, even after a recent stroke, an epitome of the human spirit at its finest, as embraced by disabled people from all walks of life on a daily basis.

For more information about Canine Partners: info@canine partners.org.uk; for organizations outside the UK, see: https://assistancedogsinternational.org  (Support by way of donations always welcome and much appreciated.) 

I have always admired the indomitable spirit of  disabled people everywhere, not least since joining them in a less but significant capacity following an accident in 2012. I was fortunate enough to recover sufficient mobility to get out and about with the aid of a walking stick. Even so, I used to walk miles and miss it terribly, especially as I cannot walk far these days, nor have been able to do so since. Even so, I try to emulate people like Sheila, truly an inspiration, and try my best to nurture  the kind of a positive thinking mindset that sees disabled people climb mountains every day of their lives.

MY CANINE PARTNER

While I'm just an ordinary person,

although I have a disability;

Juneau's trained to be one in a million

assisting, supporting, inspiring me

Juneau helps me participate fully 

in the business of everyday living;

people would rather get to know me

instead of looking away or staring

Juneau is my trusty canine partner,

together we tackle life's ups and downs;

we make a team like you'll find no other

on slopes where, once, mountains 

Far more than assistant or friend to me, 

Juneau helps make my dreams reality

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2010, 2021

[This poem, dedicated to 'Disabled People Everywhere' first appears in my collection, On the Battlefields of Love, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Storm Birds OR Inspirational

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2012.

Since a bad fall about 10 years ago,  I have been physically disabled - if only slightly compared to many people - and had to spend  a good year or so learning to walk again. I will be 75 later this year and  manage to get out and about quite well in spite of various problems with the same foot that suffered a complicated ankle fracture. I use a walking stick which might as well be invisible for all the notice many able bodied people take of it when I am out and about. Cyclists on the pavements and people more interested in their mobile phones and/or listening to music on headphones invariable expect me to get out of their way because they have no clear appreciation of their immediate environment. Heaven forbid they should try looking where they are going! Even so, I remain a Happy Bunny...most of the time. wry bardic grin

There are, of course, disabled gay men and women worldwide; among them, those determined to follow their dreams in various areas of achievement, including sport and the arts. All, like everyone else, can do no more or less than get on with the daunting task of daily life even if - for many if not most - that is likely to prove even more daunting.  

As someone who has suffered significant hearing loss all my life (much improved with digital hearing aids) I often have balance problems. Given, too, that deafness is an invisible disability, with which many hearing people quickly lose patience, it is perhaps not surprising that I have always felt a considerable affinity with disabled people who are frequently - intentionally or otherwise - put down by the less enlightened among the able-bodied majority.

It is great to see more - if relatively few - disabled people represented in the occasional popular TV series like Vera and Silent Witness; mobility problems don't necessarily mean the brain is also affected (as so many people seem to assume.) 

Disabled people worldwide are an inspiration, ordinary folks, just wanting to be treated much like anyone else and encouraged to pursue their natural human potential as far as possible; is that so much to ask?

I am dedicating today's poem to disabled people everywhere.

This poem is a villanelle. 

STORM BIRDS or INSPIRATIONAL

Where able bodied folks go

in a brave new world

the less able, too, dare follow

Nor must we ever fail to show

respect for the D-word

where able bodied folks go

Find inspiration’s brilliant glow

in a storm bird;

the less able, too, dare follow

Love challenges all in the know

(Theatre of the Absurd)

where able bodied folks go

For dreams hid under a rainbow,

hope deferred,

the less able, too, dare follow

Life-force (now ally, now foe)

at best a gift shared...

Where able bodied folks go,

the less able, too, dare follow

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Epilogue

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

[Update: Oct 6, 2017]: The 2nd Invictus Games, created by Prince Harry, and the only international multi-sporting event for wounded, injured and sick service men and women, have been a great success, not only - and most importantly - in helping the participants to rise above any disability and all the emotional baggage that goes with it, but also in helping able-bodied audiences around the world to appreciate their efforts; disabled people are far too often stereotyped, even all but written off because the less enlightened see only the disability, not the person. More yet needs to be done for war veterans worldwide to encourage those who feel undermined and undervalued by virtue of this or other disability to give them a shared purpose in life, restore self-esteem, let them feel appreciated for who they are and for their self-sacrifice on our behalf without any sense of being patronised. Three Cheers for Prince Harry for having the sensibility and insight to found the event; his mother would have been very proud of him for it.]

November 11, Armistice Day, will see the commemoration of an armistice signed between the Allies and Germany at Compiègne, an agreement that ended the fighting on the Western Fron that went into effect at 11 a.m. Paris time on 11 November 1918. While it marked a victory for the Allies and a complete defeat for Germany, it was not a formal surrender; although the armistice ended all actual fighting, it took six months of negotiations at the Paris Peace Conference to conclude a peace treaty, the Treaty of Versailles.

Today’s poem first appeared under the title, Epilogue in the on-line poetry journal, Ydrasil (2009) and Poetry Monthly International (2010)before I changed the title yet again for my collection. (It sometimes takes a good while for me to feel 'right' about a title.) I wrote it soon after a former soldier I’d met in a bar had been telling me about a friend and former comrade who was in prison. The friend has been found guilty of attacking an ‘innocent’ party who had been goading him about looking better in uniform than in a suit. Apparently, he was on probation at the time. My companion commented, ‘It’s hard. You go to a war zone a whole person but each time you come back it’s like something more of that person is missing. Part of you dies out there or goes AWOL at the very least. I guess how much so is different for everyone…’

Many ex-service personnel (anyone, anywhere) need help to adjust to everyday life once they are home again either on leave or after being discharged. While it is important to help the injured and support the bereaved, there are also men and women who carry no visible signs of having been to war, but are just as much in need of our support and understanding as well as (in some cases) professional counselling. 

The man in the bar told me something else. ‘You have to be tough to fight, really tough. Show any weakness, and if the enemy doesn’t get you, your own side will. Back home, it can often feel like there’s a total stranger living in your skin and the chances are you don’t like that person at all. It's like the old self is all but dead. Sometimes the best part of that old self will make its way back, sometimes not. I dare say it’s the same for both sides in any war…’ He paused before adding tearfully, "It's hard on family and friends. They see a soldier hero, and have no idea..."

All disabled people, and I include forms of mental illness and any struggling to get the better of the likes of post traumatic stress disorders - regardless of race, creed, gender or sexuality - are an inspiration,  heroes of battles they face daily, winning some, losing some, but determined to get the better of both disability and the misleading stereotypes it so often attracts.

This poem is a villanelle.

EPILOGUE

I so look up to you with love and pride

for the finer human traits you nurture
in each, a candle lit for those who died

The first time you went to war, I cried,

while you but longed for adventure;

you fill me with such love, and pride

In Iraq, your worst fears chose to hide

in caches of ‘true grit’ human nature;

in each, a candle lit for those who died

In Afghanistan, you fought side by side

with the bravest, a born again warrior;

I so look up to you with love and pride

You saw friends killed or injured, tried

seeing Hell as but forms of cruel satire,
in each, a candle lit for those who died

You seemed to take it all in your stride,

 heaving the fallen over your shoulder;

 I so look up to you with love and pride,

 in each, a candle lit for those who died

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2016

[Note: This poem appears under the title 'Missing, Believed Killed' in  print editions of Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2012.]