A Moment...and then back again

author’s note:

Life is just one damn thing after another.
             -- Elbert Hubbard


A MOMENT...AND THEN BACK AGAIN

Once again, someone tries to explain
how a black hole works
and once again
I fail to comprehend.

But in my blinking blankness
I again open to the mystery of this Universe--
outer space suddenly invades
my small island of inner space

and once again, I endure
the grand ache of expansion--
a feeling defying expression.

But my rapture must end
after only a moment:

this life demands I attend
to one small thing after another.

Irritations--so many irritants!
but
if I’m going to be on this earth
I should be on this earth.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
40 New Fables: ebook

Buddha Belly

author's note:

Full disclosure: I am not a Buddhist...

Or maybe I am and don't know it.


BUDDHA BELLY

As I bathe in the belly
of the Buddha
I can feel the temple bell
ringing--

rrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaa
iiinnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg
ing--
rrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaa
iiinnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggg
ing

and can feel the hills
echoing the bell--
echooooooooooooooooo
ing--
echooooooooooooooooo
ing--

in response the goats
              jump step
from stone
    to stone--
their hooves percussing--

percusssssssssss
singggg--
percusssssssssss
singggg

and in response, a prayer wheel
turns inside my heart
and suddenly I see how
we’re like those prayer flags
on the line:

waving our colors to the world
while pulled by a wind
beyond our control:
         dashed--
         stretched--
         lashed!

In fear of my weakness
I hold tightly to that strong line

and in my grip, I find
the strength of these two hands.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook

Ocean Education

author’s note:

“I have sounded the very bass-line of humility.”
                 -- Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part I


OCEAN EDUCATION

After thrashing the water
with my fierce swimming
all day--all night
I finally gave up arguing
with the ocean--

for the time being
I would stop searching
for a current to carry me
to a new horizon

and instead
let the waves roll me ashore.

Now in exhaustion, I slop
against this beach stone
with its silent Buddha smile:

the stone knows how the ocean ignored
my stubbornly-held well-calculated plans--
ignored
my screeching, my beseeching--

knows how
the ocean knocked
the bellow from me
(not just once or twice
 but repeatedly)
until I finally completed
another lesson in humility.

The stone tells me,
"You teach yourself well--
  consider this:

"by weakening
  your body and spirit
  you’ve given yourself the opportunity
  to find strength within--
  the opportunity
  to lift yourself back up againv   after another defeat
  and in that way, win."


© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook

Quiet Ecstasy

author's note:

I'd like to recommend: Ecstasy: Understanding the Psychology of Joy by Robert A. Johnson.


QUIET ECSTASY

Stand up!

Having heard those words all my life
by now, the command’s
baked-in

so any time gravity
seems to increase
I automatically fight
to stay on my feet

and if I slip to my knees
I’ll then see defeat
and curse myself, yelling:
Stand--dammit, stand!

Then in response
I’ll push my body upright
and keep on going.
Here’s the routine:

I walk until I drop
then force myself back up.
I walk until I drop
then force myself back up.

A pattern broken when
the force of nature
grows stronger
than my conscious will.

At that point
realizing I’ve no real choice
I’ll finally surrender
and lay myself down--all the way down
on my back on the ground.

Then comes the slow sweet ache
of vertebrae softly bursting
to sink down hungry thirsty roots--
to tap the heavy water and feed
on the rich black pith of the earth.

I once thought “ecstasy” meant
a flail of dancing
and long howls at the moon.

Yes, but not always:
sometimes ecstasy comes
from holding yourself still as a well
and allowing body and spirit to fill
with an excruciating sense
of life’s abundance

while fighting the fear
of being overwhelmed.
And stopping myself from standing again
as soon as I’m able to crawl back up--
forcing myself to wait ‘til I’m done--
wait until I’ve regained
the full strength of my love.

Yes, I want to show how tough I am
but this walk feels joyless--empty
whenever I lose my sense of beauty.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Listening to Silence: poetry ebook

Intimacy Regained

author’s note:

I’m on intimate terms with this valley.
           -- from True West by Sam Shepard


INTIMACY REGAINED

In the days of our beginning
we didn’t need a word for intimacy

because we had not yet lost contact
with the sharp blades of grass
snipping at our legs as we walked--
we heard the hive hum of the earth
when we lay down to rest.
We talked to the stars directly.

In the days of our beginning
we needed to stay in contact
with all life
in order to survive on this planet
but now, we must disconnect
in order to function
in the world we have created
for ourselves.

Despite early resistance
I learned to function

but as a result
my own hand eventually
seemed foreign to me:

all that good functioning
nearly killed me.

Fortunately, I had enough sense left
to feel my lack of feeling
and so, in desperation, I began
to fight for more life--

a battle without end:

after the sapping
of another functional day
my body and mind
may seem to lack
the energy to engage--
to engage and regain
a sense of intimacy

but distressed by the loss
I’ll summon enough spunk to fight--
enough to resurrect
the god inside.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook

Another Good Death

author’s note:

I think I’ve used this title at least once before...

Maybe I’m repeating myself.  But I prefer to think I’m creating a motif.


ANOTHER GOOD DEATH

Another husk falls
from my chest--

this death: a birth.
A harvest.
An accomplishment
of determined labor

that I vow to always honor
by remembering its long history

though I prick my fingertips
whenever I touch that thorny cast.

Oh, but the shell served me well!

Without its suffocation
I would not have needed
to fight so hard for freedom--
I would not
have found this strength.

So please, no pity.

But I will accept your empathy:

to know you also know
the pain and joy of such death
eases the lingering sting of birth
because I no longer feel
so alone in this work.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton

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