To Kiss the Bliss

author's note:

...when I wrote of the god,
fragmented, exiled from himself, his life, the love gone down with song,
it was myself, split open, unable to speak, in exile from myself.
                         -- Muriel Rukeyser


TO KISS THE BLISS

As a child
I was encouraged
when I learned
of how the frog
became a prince...

but later, in my attempts
I discovered
those lips to be
so distant--

no matter how high
the frog leaps
the blessed kiss still seems
just out of reach.

The weak mind loses sight
with the anxiety of height

with the anxiety of blindness

with anxiety over anxiety--

thus, on the uncertain ascent
the amphibian falls asleep--
sleeps, dreaming of bliss

then wakes
as it lands on its belly--
on its heavy soft belly.

From this we see the value
of solid Earth--first, as a launching pad

then as both a net and a slap
to wake us up.

Yes, I'm myopic with fear,
however
all this hopping
strengthens my legs
and so the nervous striving
becomes a joy onto itself.

Even so, I dislike being awoken
in such a hard manner.  Awoken, feeling
so defeated.

Thus, I'm determined
to remain awake, if not this time
then the next or the next--
but I'm determined
to eventually kiss that bliss
and then perhaps
become a prince.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps

Duck Crossing

author's note:

In my childhood, my sister and I knew an older boy who could talk like Donald Duck.

I envied his ability.


DUCK CROSSING

Even on such a solitary path
(muddy, yet joyful)...
I must stop ever so often
and allow a web-foot
to pass--

fortunately,
I've learned to put aside
my self-absorbed impatience
long enough to wonder

at the beauty of a creature
waddling so awkwardly--

how the comedy
of the jerky head jab
usually distracts us
from the delicate durable
neck feathers:
miniatures woven together
to form a dense overlay
appearing all of a piece...

is it just for waterproofing--?--
and does that sharp white neck-band
below the green sheen
serve no other purpose
than to attract a mate?

Children invent the better answers
and in moments such as this
I know they're right...but more:

as the duck steps back into the grass
it looks at me and cracks a dry quack--

the child in me then hears
an echo of my own reedy voice
and I awake
to the deeper reason for this visit:

sheltered in my grand ideas, I need
to be reminded occasionally
of how I move through the world--
of how I am perceived...of why
so much of who I am
remains unseen.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
searching for the new mythology

My Small Center of the World

author's note:

The full story of Black Elk's vision can be found in Black Elk Speaks, by John G. Neihardt.

Black Elk's story is also related by Joseph Campbell in The Power of Myth.


MY SMALL CENTER OF THE WORLD

When I was small
and feeling so small
I'd often go off alone
to inflate---
imagining myself
at the Center of the World---!

The rest of the time
I assuaged my feelings
by telling myself
"One day I'll be big!”

Yet as I grew
I seemed to shrink.

Thus, I sometimes
still fool myself
when I’m by myself:
I again pretend I stand
atop the giant apex---

however, this illusion
soon collapses
under the weight of reality...

but then, as I find my strength again
loneliness gives way to solitude
and in my heightening
I confess to myself this truth---

the same truth Black Elk
discovered in a vision
at the age of nine:

my hill is indeed
at the center of the world...

but so is every other.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
searching for the new mythology

Feeling Better

author's note:

“Tonight’s forecast...dark.”
                  -- George Carlin


FEELING BETTER

I went out searching
for a cure
when I saw how pained
my people were--

not imagining then
how expensive
the prescription--

but what are we without our health?

Here's the problem:
though I can see enough
to see we need medicine...

this illness limits my vision--

thus, for so long, I bumbled in the dark

until finally, in frustration
I sat down to catch my breath--
to gather together
what remained of my wits

then as my blind hands
touched the ground
I began to feel around--
trying to ascertain
where the hell I was--

under my fingers I found
many troubling things:

lumps and burrs and little jaws
with big teeth...

slimy trembling slithering
creatures that could be
snakes or leeches or golden
snakes and leeches--!--

my first impulse (to jump up
and run away from such stuff)
was overcome
by my strong curiosity:

all this trouble is
just so fascinating--

sometimes what I feel
immediately scuttles off

but other times these unknowns
linger as if daring me
to meet them more fully.

Though I don't allow
my fear to rule me
I am careful--
I am attentive--
in this way, I've developed
my sense of touch--I've learned:
touch must be patient--!--

so though my people still bleed
--though I still bleed--
I know I can not hurry:

though I now feel enough
to see the causes of the injury
I can not yet see the cures--

however, rest assured:
the more I feel, the more
I want to return--

so if you get there before I do
tell the people:
I really want to see them--
to see us all
so much better.

© 2012, Michael R. Patton
dreaming steps