Thursday, February 23, 2012

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


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,
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

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