The Same Creek

author’s note:

Take me to the river
And wash me down
Won't you cleanse my soul
Put my feet on the ground
       -- “Take Me to the River”, by Al Green & Teenie Hodges

I say: take yourself.


THE SAME CREEK

Whoever says you can't step
in the same creek twice
obviously doesn't know creeks.

Over the years
I’ve often returned to this creek

and it has always welcomed me
saying: step in

and I will wash your feet clean
no matter where you've been
since you last knelt on my bank.

Why shouldn’t I accept you?--
after all, no human can walk without
getting their feet a little muddy

and often more than a little
even when they tread carefully.

But sometimes a pilgrim needs
to become mired in the muck.
Otherwise, they’d never work to be free.

Of course, there are those
who choose to wallow

but aren’t they innocent in their ignorance?

So how can I refuse them
when, like you, they lament
their dim-sighted foolishness
and crawl down to my waters?

But credit yourself
with being wise enough
to realize what you win
by rediscovering your humility
and surrendering
to this creek
once again.

mythsteps · The Same Creek

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Fig Tree Communion

author’s note:

I don’t find my roots by looking back at ancestors I never knew.


FIG TREE COMMUNION

I take this fig onto my tongue
and as I savor its richness
I sense the spirit of the mother tree
spreading through my blood--

for a few blessed moments
I can feel her steady strength.

Then as the feeling fades
I begin to wonder:

can I ever be so strong?--can I

bend in the storm wind?--can I
keep my roots anchored down?

I doubt I can
but I’m inspired to try
when I see the power
of so many wise survivors
who now feed the world
with all those figs they’ve grown.

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Drumbeat Down in the Well

author’s note:

“We experience a dream as real because it is real.”
             -- William Dement


DRUMBEAT DOWN IN THE WELL

When the mower suddenly died that day
I said: “Must be a sign from above!”
and lay myself down on the lawn.

Then as I eased into a half-doze
I detected a pulsing murmur--
perhaps a distant drumbeat

for a ritual dance
of men, women, children--

a tribal circle reaching up
to the circle of the moon:
a celebration I might find
by going where my shadow pointed
as the sun sank in the west.

So I stood up and began to walk
or maybe I only dreamt I did--
in any case
I traced that quiet seductive summons
across a broad savanna
through the starless dark

until I arrived at a well
round as a drum--
its waters reflected a full moon.

I knew I’d reached the source
yet the sound had died down
so I listened down
down into that glowing whole
and as a result
I began to feel the beat
softly echoing up
from a deeper chamber of my heart.

I knew then
I was the ritual circle dancing--
reaching up
even as I listened down.

I understood:
I celebrate this life
every day with every beat--
even when I feel dull gray--even then
I’m still amazed
by this mystery we’re in.

Then
having finally realized the obvious
I returned--
finding my way back
with natural ease
because I was no longer lost.

But though we go back
we never really lose
what we’ve gained, do we?

I can still hear that deep drum--
even now as I mow
this sunny lawn.

mythsteps · Drumbeat Down in the Well

Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

The Bridge

author’s note:

When I discovered the Golden Gate bridge wasn’t actually painted gold, I felt disappointed.

But later, I realized: regardless of the color, it’s golden.


THE BRIDGE

In the dream I saw a bridge
arc across the sky

only to fade too soon as rainbows do.

So as I woke
I felt both hope
and disappointment:

again I knew a drive that often irritates--
the desire to bridge a divide within
and end this war with myself.

“You can’t even maintain
 that bridge in your dreams!”

sighed the adult
who, for years, has felt
the tiresome frustration
of continually struggling
to create a peace
that, once made, soon evaporates
like a fantasy.

But then the bright child I sometimes am
countered with this claim:
though you can’t yet hold that bridge up
under the pressures of this world
its truth always lives within you.

But before the two could argue
the wise one rose up from down deep
to tell me:

this dream came because
you needed to remember
that the pain of desire unfulfilled
feels worse than the pain of fatigue.

Now you’ll keep working
to strengthen your golden bridge.

mythsteps · The Bridge

The Truth of the Dream: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Ocean Adventure

“And if you have not been enchanted by this adventure--
        your life--
what would do for you?”
        -- Mary Oliver


OCEAN ADVENTURE

I once believed
I’d missed my chance
for a life of gusto and adventure

then I realized:
though the air I imbibed
was sometimes dry
I have always sailed with full sails
because I’ve breathed deeply

and when moored, I often explored
the dark depths

and didn’t shut my eyes
when shocked
by the creatures I discovered.

What a grand voyage!--
I’ve landed on many unknown lands.
I’ve steered through countless storms

but I must admit
I occasionally wrecked.

Yes, I’ve survived br> a variety of calamities--br> this dim captain has been lucky.

Unlike some who’ve navigated
these seas with me.

But I guess it’s wrong
to think I’m the fortunate one--
after all, they’ve gone on
to other adventures.

Well yes, but I doubt
their new journeys could be
any more wondrous
than the wild trip they took
on this mysterious planet.

Common Courage: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton