Cannonball Blues

author’s note:

What a loss...what a life:

Robert Bly, 1926-2021.


CANNONBALL BLUES

Years ago, I read:

if you want to know who you are
then listen to yourself.

But when I did, I began
to hear a cannonball
rolling around my cargo hold:

rumbling from one side to the other--
banging hard
against the walls of my hull.

Even on a gentle sea
I can hear that heavy ball
bump...

bump...

bump...against the oak boards.

Sometimes I lose patience
and descend
and after some effort
manage to catch the ball

but the stubborn bull can break
the bars of any cage I make.

That cast-iron orb ignores my prayers--
mocks my earnest meditation!
I try not to listen to it
but you can’t close
the ears you’ve opened.
Now I hear what I hear.

But at least I know
I sail a sturdy ship:
that ball can’t crack my wood
even when the waves grow rough.

But I want to do more than endure:

though I don’t expect to ever bust
the cannonball
maybe someday I’ll be strong enough
to laugh when I hear
that bump bump bump--

to have a little laugh
at the irascible one I am

and then laugh big
at a world that keeps on
rocking my ship.

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