The Wounded Beast

author's note:

My small contribution to world peace.


THE WOUNDED BEAST

While fumbling blindly in the cloud
of another storm I’d stirred up…

my hand touched the tough hide
of a growling beast.

Fortunately, I’d already read:
if you run from the wild unknown
you’ll be bitten.
So instead I stayed
and tried to calm the creature
with empathic fingertips

(----)

then
as the rumbling quieted
I began to detect
a sob of loss buried beneath
the thick epidermis

so, my caring deepened--

below the grief, I could feel
the groans of many wounds.

I then realized the obvious:
my healing would require
more effort than I’d hoped--

the light simple process
described in that happy book
would not suffice.

Fortunately
I already understood:
to surrender would be
to surrender my life.

Now, years later, I can see
my work as doctor and nurse
will never be complete.

Such slow tedious progress!
But I do feel better
and besides
I find meaning in this job.
So why stop?

But ah!--
knowing the pain
of dealing with pain
I can’t really blame
those who shirk the chore.

Nonetheless, I may still become upset
when I hear some of them mock
those who do choose to do
exploratory surgery
on the inner self--

their obtuse arrogance echoes
the bullhorn that long ago
blasted me to silence

and so, by reflex
I may begin to rage within--
rage until
I’ve dimmed myself
in another storm cloud.

But then
as I try to find my light
sometimes I remember
to reach down with
empathic fingertips
and work to heal
the wounded beast.

© 2019, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook