Closet Fear

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

Yet again, I have been asked to publish a gay-interest post/poem on this blog; it has been on my gay-interest blog for several years. A reader writes, "I have a pc at home, but dare not risk reading your gay blog, and have to go to my local public library for that. I know that some members of my family read your general blog so please post more gay poems there so they might yet come to understand that being gay is neither crime nor sin."  Whether the writer is male of female, I have no idea, but I hope the poem helps, at least in part, to bring any family members to a greater understanding of the human heart as a free country and any God as a God of Love, regardless of any contradictory dogma by this or that religion. 

Here in the West, it has been my experience that many gay people take freedom of sexual identity for granted.  True, there is no denying that homophobia is still alive and kicking. Yet, I have listened over the years to chilling tales of how it is to be gay in countries where same sex relationships remain a criminal offence (Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia and various African countries among many) punishable by a public whipping, prison or worse. I have learned to count my blessings…even during those low points in my life when they may otherwise have seemed too thin on the ground for much comfort.

Yes, the heart is a free country, not a prison; wherever its every beat expresses fear of exposure under pain of punishment, even death, that's more than an abuse of Human Rights, but makes any of any religious dogma advocating it the greater abuse or sin against humanity by far. Religion is meant to be an expression of love; no God of Love would condone hate crime in any shape or form. I left my local Church Sunday School for this very reason at the age of ten years, four years before I realised and acknowledged (to myself at least) that I am gay. 

It is a tragedy for the West that many if not most immigrant families bring their religious dogma with them, forcing their gay young people into the kind of closet that public opinion forced me into years ago; one which resulted in a mental breakdown in my early 30's and a suicide attempt. Even now, I bitterly regret not coming out to family, friends and work colleagues, whatever their take on homosexuality, until my early 40's. Regular readers will know that I do not subscribe to any religion. At the same time, nor do I consider religion to have a monopoly on a sense of spirituality; the latter and homosexuality (or gender identity) are not incompatible. As I have said so many times on both blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human.

CLOSET FEAR

No one can know we’re lovers,

everyone sees us as good friends

or lany peace of mind for love stands

no chance

No one can know we share a bed

whenever I stay over at your place,

taking each day as it comes, for good

or ill

No one can know we’re gay men

playing hide-and-seek with shadows,

one mind-body-spirit no less deserving

of nurture

No one must guess our secret,

war weary of judgmental stereotypes

dragging us down even as we recharge

its batteries

No one must catch a single look

between us that even hints at a story

that dare not be told though reworked

for centuries

No one must guess we’re lovers

who would cheer us publicly stoned

to death to satisfy an inhumanity baying

for blood

Yet, we will lie, bodies entwined,

away from prying eyes and loose talk,

make love among far kinder hypotheses,

dream on…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

  

Wisdom is a Tree

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

Given that I often post Gay Awareness poems on both blogs, a reader ‘Marc’ has asked if I would post another here '‘because my mother suffers with depression and reads your general blog, but would never dream of reading a gay blog. My brother is gay and she wants nothing to do with him.’

Oh, but how sad for the whole family!

I feel very disappointed that this man’s mother has not felt able to be more understanding of her gay son. Feedback suggests that a growing number of readers have started dipping into both blogs during the past year or so and several parents of gay men and women have said my gay-interest poems have helped them come to terms with their sexuality. Others, of course, condemn me for "leading decent people astray" as one angry parent put it recently. I can only hope Marc's mother may eventually join the former and feel able to be no less openly loving and understanding towards her gay son than towards her other children.

Now, I have been feeling very low lately and struggling to keep a deeper depression at bay. (An old enemy since childhood, but that's another story for another post/poem.) As regular readers will know, creative writing always helps me; if I can just begin to write a poem, working on it over a period of hours, days even, gives me a sense of achievement.

It doesn’t matter if a poem or novel turns out to be good or poor; what matters is that sense of achievement, keeping my head above water in a hostile sea.  

Any creative work can help keep the pitch black depression at bay; there are many shades of grey to pass through first and a sense of creating something can restore colour to a seemingly colourless life. 

It doesn’t matter what we try; it can be writing, music, gardening, catching up with the decorating or making a paper aeroplane...Nor does it matter if we don’t finish whatever creative task we’ve set ourselves, so long as we find the motivation to try; if things don’t work out for one reason or another, we just have to dig deeper, and try something else.

Never contemplate the notion of failure. Failure is losing the will to have a go at this or that through no fault of our own but an inability to cope. Failure is not even being able to feel that we want to try, which usually means we have put ourselves through all those murky shades of grey and are well stuck in that pitch black pit we call depression; the only way out of it is to heave any sense of failure as far away as we can, give ourselves a well-deserved pat on the back for that, and then look long and hard within ourselves for the will to try something, anything that will help put our lives back on an even keel.

We shouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to ask for help either; being able to find the words to ask for help means we are half-way towards making a full recovery already.

Sadly some people don’t begin to understand depression and think we can be jollied out of it. In the end, though, it is down to us whether we sink or swim.

Did I say it was easy?

It has rained a lot lately. A tree outside my front window is a vivid leafy green and daily plays host to songbirds of all kinds. One day, it reached out to me with a life-line, and a GOOD feeling I had been looking for but hadn’t experienced for a while made me grab it with both hands...

Consequently, today’s poem...

WISDOM IS A TREE

An old tree outside my window

assures me all year round

Earth Mother’s looking out for me

because in me she’s found

someone who cares, always hears,

is always there for her

as she’s always here for me

(so speaks the tree)

An old tree outside my window

assures me every day

Earth Mother’s always here for me

and doesn’t give a damn

about sex, sexuality, creed, colour

or what age we are

if we’ll be here for her always

(as She for us)

An old tree outside my window

has many tales to tell

how Earth Mother has shed tears

for the likes of me

who sought refuge in religion,

but found no sanctuary

only a self-centred expectation

(no salvation)

An old tree outside my window

took me to its heart;

Earth Mother would not have me

thrash at life in pain

but as sun and rain nurturing

the natural world,

seeks to inspire the likes of me

(wisdom is a tree)

An old tree outside my window

has wiped my tears,

falling much like autumn leaves,

leaving my branches bare

through a bleak winter of despair

till love songs, like spring rain,

would have us rework our history

(so speaks the tree)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012