My Mentor is a Tree

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

Today’ poem is not strictly autobiographical, but the story it tells is one to which I could only too easily relate when told me by a friend many years ago; apart from having taken some poetic license, I tell it here much as it was told to me then. 

“Courage is fire, bullying is smoke.” Benjamin Disraeli 

There is no shame in asking for help. Nor is it ‘grassing’ to expose a bully, just common sense. You might even be doing them a favour; anyone shown the error of their ways stands a good chance of becoming a better person. 

It is not only children who get bullied, of course.  Here in the UK, a National Bullying Helpline offers help and advice regarding bullying in the workplace, bullying at school and online harassment; details online.

 

 MY MENTOR IS A TREE 

A local park, solitary tree
child looking up who should be
at school;
Tall, grown old, branches
reaching out by way of expressing
mixed feelings 

Small and sad, schoolboy
crying over a family photograph,
takes a penknife
to scratch a tell-tale heart
on rough bark, rain clouds closing in,
world growing dark 

Tree submits - no defence
against human nature when all’s
said and done;
Child climbs, terra out mind,
bully-fear soon starting to fall away
like autumn 

A hovering skylark lets out a cry
to chicks-in-the nest making ready
to fly...
Tears for Mum, Dad, and pal
teddy bear as well, but ready to leap
into freefall 

Earth Mother whispers in an ear,
“Look! Beyond a runny nose, a way
to live, FREE
of bully-fear. Tell someone,
then see the rats, how they do run,
their turn...  

So, I did just that, found a voice
to tell family and school, bullies outed
and humiliated,
all inhumanity but heading for a fall
once mind-body-spirit reasons ways to get
the better of it. 

It’s still there, the tree. Sometimes,
I revisit, whenever alien forces dragging
me down;
Sometimes, too, a skylark joins us,
with a peace song for all nature’s children
of whom I’m one  

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2021

 

[Note: The origin of this poem is ‘Heaven Can Wait’ that I wrote in 1998 and which appears in my first collection, Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; it would be incorrect to call it a ‘revised’ version as I have made substantial changes, so have chosen not to use the same title.] RT

Inside-Out

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

This poem appeared on my gay-interest blog in September, and I have been asked by a teenage reader (not out to family and friends) to post it here as well.

Every now and then, a young person emails me to say they are gay, in their teens, and have no idea what to do or where to turn. Many are convinced parents and peers will turn against them. Believe me you are not alone. When I think back to when I was 14 years old and realised I am gay, the whole closet ethos threatens to overwhelm me all over again.

In many areas, in many countries, there are support groups that did not exist when I was a teenager in the 1960's; search the Internet and try and make contact as this will enable you to meet other young people in the same situation. As for parents and peers, they may well surprise you, they may even  have observed for themselves that you might be gay and have been waiting for you to talk to them about it, not wanting to raise the subject themselves for fear of being mistaken; if not, yes, they may be hostile at first, but this could be an initial shock reaction. Remember how long it took you to come to terms with being gay and allow them,too, time to get used to the idea.

Never underestimate the power of love and friendship.

Sometimes, of course, family and friends refuse to accept gay people, even within their own family circles. This degree of rejection is incredibly hard to bear, but we need to build on the same strength of willpower and character that brought us out of that awful closet in the first place. Believe me, there is a life to be had and enjoyed out there, and there are many good people who gladly take others as they find them whether they be gay, straight, transgender...whatever. We are stereotyped by many, and it is often the stereotype that is vilified, not the person. Whatever, it is we LGBT folks who are so often made to suffer for that ignorance and bigotry.

To LGBT people around the world, I say this. Never, but never let anyone else put you down or make you think any less of yourself for your sexuality. Where staying in the proverbial closet is necessary, for now at least, confide in someone you can trust wherever possible; this may be a close relative, friend or perhaps a teacher less likely to be judgemental than most. Failing that, and failing the availability of any known support groups in your area, be guided by your better instincts and plain common sense until such a time as you can see your way clear to put closet days behind you once and for all, as I did, although, in hindsight, I should have done so years earlier.

No escape from the closet, for whatever reason?  There is an LGBT grapevine in every environment, so keep an ear out for it if only because a closet shared is a crisis halved. I was a psychological mess for years, but listening out for the grapevine and being part of a closet community probably saved my sanity while I wrestled with all the other issues - good,bad and ugly - with which life tests us at any age, but especially when we are young, emotionally inexperienced, and so often made to feel out of our depth.

INSIDE-OUT

His finger brushes mine
across the desk we share in class
and I can feel his gaze
on me out of the corner of an eye
but cannot, dare not
meet it, for fear someone might see us
and guess the turmoil in me

Can it be that he's gay
this classmate I'd joke with about
all sorts, and our laughter
would spread right through me
like fizzy lemonade
on a hot day, its bubbles applauding us
as we sail through the air?

Can it be that I'm gay too,
but how do I know, and what to do
if his finger means business
and he wants to take our friendship
beyond such felt horizons
as assailing  bleary, but half closed eyes
come some know-it-all dawn?

Barely attending the lesson,
the farthest corners of our eyes engage,
attempting to read between lines
blurred by mixed feelings for years,
given our having been raised
to believe one step beyond male bonding
a step too far, the Devil's work

I look away, and so does he,
eyes wide shut, if seeming to look ahead
at our teacher, her lips moving
but any sound coming out drowning
in a sea of intimate images,
and such cries as could easily be of ecstasy
as for help from poor swimmers

Final bell, school's out, mates
on the way home, chatting about nothing
in particular if only to steer clear
of all we need to coax out into the open
from a suffocating closet,
too close for comfort, too real for fantasy
feeding on a vulnerable innocence

Taking a shortcut down an alleyway
we've walked every day for years, turning
to me in tears, giving me a hug
and I hug him back, not a word passing
between us, our first kiss
when it comes, winging us across s history
that once dare not speak its name

A companionable silence descending
as we emerge from that alleyway, bonding
in a new sense of togetherness
transcending our Here-and-Now in ways
defying poetry, prose, gesture,
any spoken word or 'live' art to even attempt
lending expression to its intimacy

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019