Mysterious Groundhog Life

author's mote:

Every day should be Groundhog Day.


MYSTERIOUS GROUNDHOG LIFE

When I saw the groundhog
waddling along--
grubbing just to survive--
I saw myself
and suddenly my dream
of being an eagle in high flight
felt like a lie:

a fantasy I use
to distract myself
from the plain truth
of my groundhog life

with its daily routine of mundane chores
made worse by incessant small frustrations.

But then
as I continued to watch
that humble creature work
I began to marvel
at the force in its frame--
does the fodder
of wildgrass and grubs
provide all that energy?--

maybe the body also draws
from some higher source.

Whatever the case may be
in that moment, I witnessed

the mystery of life
in a life quite common

and felt again
the mystery of my own life--
the mystery of our groundhog life.

My wonder then lifted me
high above this flat ground.

So maybe the sages were right
when they told us:
you must first embrace
this lowly earth
before you can realize
your dream of flight.

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

When She Looks Down

author’s note:

I use the third-person pronoun in this poem because I’ve never actually considered returning…

But I can understand why someone would.


WHEN SHE LOOKS DOWN

Long ago, she began to pull a plow
up this steep slope
after being told she’d find
a terrace somewhere in the upper reaches.
There, she could plant her crops
close to the sun
and reap great abundance--
she could earn a paradise.

But sometimes on this trek
she stops to rest
and then looks down
at her old life far below
on that gentle level ground--

from a distance
its way seems so much easier.

She then begins to question
her decision--

she’ll think:
maybe I won’t gain a paradise
if I continue to climb
but lose one--
down below I could chat and drink
and feed and sleep
in the pleasant shade of the cliffside--
I could fade to my end quite contentedly.

But if I returned
wouldn’t I always wonder

what I might’ve discovered
above those mountain clouds?

To abandon my work would be
to abandon an aspiration
that has given my life meaning.

All my hard-earned progress lost
in the dizzy whim of a moment!

In regret, I might feel
even weaker than I feel
when I’m climbing.
Even smaller.  Totally insignificant.

At this point in her thought process
she’ll tell herself:
okay, I won’t return today
though I could
and indeed I might--
tomorrow.

Then she’ll stand
and begin to climb again--
having completed yet another round
of a mind game she uses
to move her feet
when she feels so fatigued--
so frustrated
and lower instinct
threatens to triumph
over higher.

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry ebook
Myth Steps blog
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Message to Our Tent City Kids

author’s note:

“I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in”
         -– “Fixing a Hole”, Lennon/McCartney


MESSAGE TO OUR TENT CITY KIDS

Dear Kids:

No, I’ve never lived
in an shaky tent
but I have known the pain
of insecurity

and often felt anxiety
as another rising wind threatens me
with yet another storm--
many nights I still
wrestle with
my worried head.

In those chaotic battles
I sometimes feel so weak
but in desperation, hold fast
until I find my strength:

often we must be diminished
before we realize
how tall we actually are.

Kids,
maybe you feel embarrassed
by the circumstances of your life.
Well, I say: be proud
of your accomplishment

(which is what I tell myself
 when I begin to judge
 my ragged patchwork past
 by the criteria
 of a critical society).

Tent city kids
don’t misunderstand me--
I wish you could sleep cozy
under a roof that won’t tear--
I pray someday you will.
But I must warn you:
no roof is rock solid.

Even a king in a castle
trembles at night--

maybe even more than you do.

I say:
we can all become wise kings
by rising to the challenge
of those unavoidable storms
that threaten to destroy
our human roofs.

© 2021, Michael R. Patton
Soultime: e-novel
searching for the new mythology

The Beauty of the Stubborn Tree

author’s note:

During these icy times, I’m warmed when I see so many beautiful trees.

To Sal de Mar, for her birthday.


THE BEAUTY OF THE STUBBORN TREE

I can feel the tree worrying
about the ice
weighing down its branches--
the tree never asked for the ice
to be added
to all its other duties

yet I’m comforted as I watch
the sun spark those falling drops--
that slow erosion will eventually
set the tree free.

Until then, it must strain
to maintain its black skeletal limbs
as the wind hits
with blast after blast--
a terrific crucifixion

that’ll end when the last icicle falls--
sticks in the saturated ground--
then the tree will breathe
a sigh of relief
and sing a song of joy in the breeze

even though it knows
the wind will eventually rise again--
will bring clouds, then ice again.

I often fail to notice
the magnificence of the tree
until an ice storm reveals
its glorious stubborn strength.

Now, today--
as I roam up and down
this mountainside
I see beauty in painful abundance.

Soultime: e-novel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton