Rainbow Man Flying Up Towards Não-Terra

 

Our personalities, attitudes, expectations,drives, emotions, behaviour etcetera, etcetera, are defined, tuned, re-tuned by.......
Time, place, experience, blood, central nervous system, DNA and a zillion inputs that get churned into the mix that manifests itelf as our outputs.
Phew.
At the end of all that, no two of us, or can be, the same.
We can empathise, attract, reciprocate - or repel - all we like, but we will remain just another individual, even if we allow ourselves to be totally subsumed into a unified mass all pulling for the same end, in the same direction.
There is thankfully still a long way to go before Huxley's Brave New World dream/nightmare of pre-programmed, pre-ordered clones replaces the form of reproduction brought all of us here.
So?
I am actually reassured by my uniqueness, despite everything, such as the solitude, isolation, flaws, failures. . Because however diminished I am, however robbed and removed from everything that matters, I still know who I am, what has defined and fashioned this me.
I still know how I got to this present Groundhog Day of unending night, unendurable emptiness and unspeakable smallness.
In my entire book, I've never looked for anyone to blame, theres IS nobody to blame, so I blame nobody. It has never been my way. Neither will I judge anybody, except myself.
I am the only person qualified to judge to judge me.
I am the only person whom I am qualified to judge.
It is the same for you, I believe.
Therefore, now for a poem, that I wrote in 1981, another one inspired by a Folon poster which was commissioned by Amnesty International (which for personal reasons from 1st-hand dealings long ago, I am no fan of, with the exception of its field-workers). Mention of the latter makes me think something: If I have such sharp-edged concepts of right & wrong, does this not imply that I will, in fact, draw judgements on those wqhose actions place them firmly in my "wrong" box?
The answer is "yes" and I will try to return to explain next post.
Again, this poem not only still does it for me, it is another piece that today seems to have been waiting for its time, so that I now feel it in a very different way to 26 years ago. Back then, I personally knew very few people who had suffered from torture, death-squads, dictatorhips. it was to come in a couple of years and continue until the mid-90s. But the principles were firmly in place.
10 years after I wrote it, I had begun to believe that I was, personally, much closer to the refugees through my life experiences than I had perceived when I was younger.
And reading it again this weekend, I feel it as a burning statement. The 2nd picture is a detail of a version I made for my Dad for his 80th birthday. Those black lines? I shot a photo of the original work onto which the sun was projecting a shadow of the bedroom window. It was so much more powerful, as if Rainbow-Man was escaping from jail. I photocopied it and coloured Rainbow Man by hand on that.
Rainbow Man, Icarus, feet never on the ground, waqnting so much to fly, so that life was like a bird's flight as cclose as possible, living on & beyond the margins, with no other choice, yet always believing that this was the right and only place to be.
And that is why all these todays are so unbearable for me. The worst about it is knowing I can accomplish no real good for anybody, not here chained to the ground.
I need my wings back for that.

How Prisoner of Conscience Became Rainbow Man
Man in prison
Looks to dawn,
Hopes and prays
He might be gone;
There, beyond the stratosphere,
Pastel space
Of colours clear;
Higher than all birds can fly,
Sees a rainbow cross the sky;
Sees the rainbow arching down
From deepest stars
Towards this town;
Marvels how it transcends all,
The palace gates,
The prison wall;
The Police Chief, who does not wake
From sleep that makes his conscience ache;
The torturer, who loves his job,
Who dreams, now sweats and
Starts to sob.

A rainbow breaking rules and laws –
Like melting bars and
Smashing doors –
Feels its way through man-made hell
To find the man inside his cell.
It burns away the fire-proofed door.
The verdict rises from the floor:
“For Everyman who did no wrong,
Except ignore the 'masters’ Song”.

And finally, the rainbow’s end
Wraps around its humble friend,
Who weeps in joy and disbelief;
The Judge of Hearts knows the REAL thief.
With lightning speed that leaves no trace,
The rainbow and its charge retrace
The way from prison-earth to sky,
The path from chains to Free and High.........