The Fable of the Man Who Opened His Eyes

author’s note:

I know gravity is necessary.  But some days, there’s just too much.


THE FABLE OF THE MAN WHO OPENED HIS EYES

I once felt so jealous of astronauts--
I should be the one
walking on the Moon!

I wanted to hop from planet
to planet
and soar through
the vast mysterious spaces
of the Universe.

Books and TV programs
instead of satisfying
only stoked my desire.

Blake said:
see a world in a grain of sand.
And yes--once or twice
I was able to see as he saw
however
I would’ve preferred
to have found that grain
in a ring of Saturn.

Finally
to ease my frustration
I shut the door to my room
--I shut my eyes--
and sank into a semi-sleep.

But instead of landing softly
on a bottom cushion
I started to discover worlds
in a universe ever expanding:

even the small debris
--the specks of sand--
contained so much information.

So strange it all seemed--
so wonderfully alien
and yet that menagerie
lived within me.

Years later, and I still
haven’t reached the end
of the bit of human universe
granted to me.
Have my inner voyages
diminished the urge
to dance on planets?

Well, I must admit
I still long to visit Saturn

but if asked to pick
I guess I’d still choose
to know my own space.

Common Courage: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

A Man with a Plan & a Prayer

author’s note:

No, I’m not the man of this poem. For that matter, I don’t pray.

And yet sometimes when I reach the end of the poem, I get a little choked up.


A MAN WITH A PLAN & A PRAYER

A little man in a small room
prayed late at night every night
asking his god to heal
the community

but when he seemed to receive no response
our man realized his heavenly benefactor
might not bother to intercede
unless he himself showed good faith
by coming up with a few ideas
about what he could do to help.

Then after hitting on
what seemed a good idea
the man asked himself:
how can I make that idea a reality?

So next
he took on the onerous task
of developing a strategy
which then led him tov a job of true courage--v he acted on his plan:

he worked with earnest diligence
for forty days and forty nights
(which could be forty months
 or even forty long years).

And each night
after his hard labor
our pilgrim paused
for a few moments of prayer
at the table
in his small room

but during this ritual
he didn’t ask his god
to help speed progress--
to remove any of the many barriers
he encountered
on the path of his plan:

a path of so much frustration--
so much doubt.
A miracle, it seems
that man managed to keep going
until he realized his dream
(at least to some degree).

Afterwards
our crusader never claimed
his victory was a blessing from God--
the fool he’d been had been lost
in the school of his long journey--
what a bruising battle he’d fought!--
so many tough opponents.

Looking back, he again felt
the hurt he’d endured--
the disappointment.

Some days his only solace
was that quiet midnight prayer
when he went within
asking for strength
and emerged just minutes later
feeling strong again.

As that memory lifted him
our man said:
what would I have done
without my god?

What I Learned While Alone: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The String

author’s note:

Though I’m on a string, there is some slack.


THE STRING

I believe I’m on a string.

I say so because
many times I’ve been pulled
down roads
I didn’t wish to follow.

Yes, I often fought
but then the string yanked me--
dragged me along.
Unsettling to know
I wasn’t in control

until I realized:
this string could also be taking me
away from danger--
perhaps the edge of a cliff.

But what about those times
when the string seemed
to lead me into
adverse circumstance?

I decided to answer that question this way:
I need to learn what I need to learn.
Yes, the string operates according to plan--
a plan designed especially for me.

That idea gives me a little lift
when this path seems such a drag.
But before I inflate too much
I remind myself:
whatever holds my string
also steers
over seven billion other folk

following a plan
we can not see.

Soultime: a novel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Spinning in One Place

author’s note:

With regret I cut these lines from the poem below:

...silent questions began
to surround me--
after all, all anyone ever saw was
someone just standing around.


SPINNING IN ONE PLACE

Feeling dizzy
as I walked this spinning planet
I decided to stop
and rest my head

but standing in one place
created its own problems:
I began to feel feelings
I could usually ignore
in the rush of daily chores

and as I tried to cope
with the whirlwind of feeling spinning within

the world outside also began to blow.
Though I wanted to walk away
I had no choice now but to hold on.

So I deepened my roots
and to bolster my strength
told myself:

yes you seem to have brought
calamity upon yourself
but decisions that cause so much pain
are not made by chance
but by necessity:
we need to become more
for reasons we can’t fully know.

Some may argue with my ideas
but this belief helped calm my heart
and in response, the winds outside
also began to calm a bit--

enough
for me to appreciate the gift
of this spinning dance
on our spinning planet.

What I Learned While Alone: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

The Benefits of My Revolution

author’s note:

If nothing else, at least I can change myself.


THE BENEFITS OF MY REVOLUTION

The rush wind of these times

has me spinning--
little comfort to know
I’m not the only one.

I told myself
you must hold on

but what could I hold to
either outside or in?

I decided then
to see my reality this way:
I’m not just being batted about
by a whirlwind
I’m rising in a tornado--
by struggling to deal
with the burl and buzz
I lift myself up.

Yes, my stomach sinks
with a constant feeling of falling
but the thrill of uncertainty enlivens me--
hard to doze or dawdle on this spiral

and due to my dizziness
I work to focus.
As a result, I can see
just a little more clearly
with every new day.

Survival: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Monster Behind the Door: a Dream

author’s note:

From experience, I say: dreams don’t lie.


MONSTER BEHIND THE DOOR: A DREAM

I decided to face that monster
I could feel lurking
on the opposite side of the door.

But as I pulled the knob
that beast pulled against my pull

so I gave up and tried
to push the door all the way shut

but then that shadow force
pushed against my push.

In nervous frustration
I then upped my courage
another notch:

I stopped

and stepped back

which allowed the door
to swing open.
Darkness suddenly vanished
into light then
and the wail I’d heard
coming from a banshee
became the cry of a small child
abandoned on the floor.

Unfortunately
I awoke from the dream then

so I can’t tell you if I lifted that child up

but from experience
I can say for certain:
once opened
those doors do not close.

The Truth of the Dream: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

My Vow

author's note:

Holy vow.


MY VOW

Yes, I could still feel
but not clearly enough
to keep from injuring myself.

Fortunately, such injury can awaken.
When I awoke
I found myself dulled
by fuzzy static fog inside.

Ironic, yes:
I could feel my numbness.
And contrary to what some seem to believe
fluffy grayness feels uncomfortable.
Eerily unnatural.

No, waking doesn’t mean
release in a flash.
But only then did I vow
to do whatever possible
to feel what I truly felt--
to feel as much as I could bear--
to experience
the overwhelming truth
of our human life--

no matter the suffering required.

Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

About the Walls

author’s note:

Haven’t heard much about the men’s movement lately…

But I assure you, we’re still moving.


ABOUT THE WALLS

When I built a wall
between me and pain
I built a wall
between me and feeling.

I’d built that wall in fear
but when I woke to what I’d done
I feared for my life
and worked to break
that hard cushion down

only to discover
such labor must go slowly:
I can’t break--I must erode.

Often I feel alone
in this struggle
but if I choose to look I’ll see:
desperate men everywhere
working to erode the barriers
that blind kings and numb warriors
of ages past
have bequeathed to them
and their sons.

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

Listening to Myself

author’s note:

I’d like to add: it’s also good to see a therapist besides yourself.


LISTENING TO MYSELF

I’ve finally learned:

when the chest begins to tighten
I must stop and become
the therapist--
the one who doesn’t judge
or even try to resolve the conflict
tying up my head at that moment.

When this wise one hears my anger
it hears the old pain hidden beneath
the conflict.

It hears the old grief.

Sometimes someone just needs
someone to acknowledge their pain.
Since no one knows me better
than my own self
I can be my best listener--
but only if I stop criticizing
and open my empathy instead.

When I do, I emerge
from the brief listening session
feeling the fresh strength of release
and perhaps then I can dance
rather than wrestle with
the conflict of the moment.

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton