Thursday, 2 January 2014

Broker for Peace

Let the flame of love die, and civilisation will surely perish. Precious little chance of that (he says with fingers tightly crossed) but should the human heart ever let it die, there are many (me included) that would say its host body, too, is dead. Yet, there are other hosts to human life; mind and spirit host and help form the very nature of who we are, and who's to say they are not as seeds in the wind  once the body rejects them likely to settle elsewhere, even take root and grow into a new Self...?

Fanciful perhaps, to the sceptic, (and believe me, I am one) but we see it in nature all the time, death and rebirth  so why not in human nature also? While I do not subscribe to any religion - of of the chief sources of division in the world - I have to say I have never been able to dismiss altogether the prospect of a natural, posthumous consciousness. 

Now, when people speak of love, romance springs to mind and lovemaking. Yet, love comes in all shapes and forms, to each a unique signature of its own; close friends; pets, favourite places; music to make us feel we love everyone (while it lasts); stories that inspire and remind us that, for all its ups and down, we are in love with life...and if we’re not, we need to do something about it.

This poem is a kenning


I feed the fire that keeps
the light in your eyes burning brightly,
inspires the Sandman
who revisits you nightly till dawn breaks
and it’s Apollo’s turn
to take over the reins of inspiration
seeing us through everyday
frustration and confusion, politics
of disillusion

I am your guide, who needs
no telling which path you should take
through life though
you make one mistake after another,
even lose your true self
among its twists and turns, misleading
signs pointing this way
and that, each promising the fruits
of fulfilment

I am the ghost of lives past
calling from some distant other-world
of its own making
anxious to be heard, reassure us
that life is for living,
each to our own, following feelings
we can’t always explain,
trust the spirit of nature in whose womb
we were born

I am Love, the heart's broker for peace
whatever it takes, nothing less...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012, 2017

[Note: Both title and last stanza have been revised since this poem first appeared under the title 'The Keeper'in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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