Symbiotic

author’s note:

I never lose my empathy.  But sometimes I manage to ignore it.


SYMBIOTIC

When you see me, you see my wounds
then feel my wounds.

then try to soothe my wounds.

I know I’m the only one who can heal those wounds.
I’m not done trying.
But the long tedium of the work tires me.

So I go to see you.

This deep diver needs to breathe
at least once week—needs
the relaxing empathy of our Sundays.

But I’d just stay home and watch the game
if I didn’t know
I soothe your deep wounds too.

mythsteps · Symbiotic

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Hope for the Fallen

author’s note:

I’ve met two people who were once knocked unconscious.

Both felt they benefited from the experience.


HOPE FOR THE FALLEN

A wise one once said:
the fire that flares up
soon burns out.

Was she talking about my nation?

Maybe she was talking about the two of us.

That wise one also said:
those who don’t stop to look
to see where they’re going
soon fall and hit their heads.

Was she talking about the two of us?

Maybe she was talking about our nation.

Or maybe
she was talking about the other day
when I tripped
and landed hard on the hard ground.

But as I regained my senses
I suddenly remembered
the night I feared I’d freeze

but then found a small ember
in a big pile of ashes
and built a fire that lasted ’til morning.

I may still be a fool
but at least now I know
not to give up hope.

mythsteps · Hope for the Fallen

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Fable of the Woman Who Saved a Wounded Bird

author’s note:

Physician, heal thyself.
        -- Luke 4:23


FABLE OF THE WOMAN WHO SAVED A WOUNDED BIRD

Years ago, a young girl
tried and failed
to save a dying bird chick.

A sincere effort.
But what she didn’t know was:
she saw herself in that bird.

Later
she decided to help save human beings
by becoming a nurse.

A sincere aspiration.
But what she didn’t know was:
in so many faces
she saw that dying bird chick.

Later
after witnessing so much death
she decided to help save human beings
by ascending to the pulpit.

A sincere aspiration.
But what she didn’t know was:
she now hoped to save
that dying bird chick
by saving its soul.

Over the years, she received much praise
for her work as a preacher and nurse.
Nonetheless
she still felt a vague malaise.

Finally, in desperation
she asked her mirror
what the problem was

and then
in the reflection looking back
she saw that dying bird chick.

From that point on
she became her own patient.
From that point on
she became her own flock.

Later, she returned
to the twin tasks of tending
to the bodies and spirits
of wounded human beings.

But now her aspirational efforts
produce even better results

and though she doesn’t say
she knows the reason why:

People who want to open
but don’t trust
may open
when they experience
a server who lives in peace—

someone who has saved
her own bird chick.

mythsteps · Fable of the Woman Who Saved a Wounded Bird

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Clown Skeleton

author’s note:

What if every day was Halloween?


CLOWN SKELETON

While sneaking around backstage
after class one afternoon
I pulled a curtain in a dingy dusty storeroom
and found a skeleton standing at a blackboard.
No lower jaw, so no death grin.

To calm my sudden shock
I clapped a silly baseball cap on that bone head.

I would mock the specter that mocks us.

But then another idea came to me:
I should confront my fear.
I would confront the unknown
by peering into those dark eye sockets.

Maybe I’d sense the unseen
the great mystery—
the invisible realm.

But no—
though I stared into those empty pools
until my eyes burned
I felt only a dull negative:
the absence of life.

However
my neck hairs did rise
when I posed this question:

might I likewise end up
abandoned in a backroom?—
a clown set of bones—
just another blank line?

Stunned by the thought
I walked away from that encounter
with the clock ticking in my head again
but louder, louder this time—
stirring a sense of urgency in me.

I needed to fill that line
with something…something
that might last after my last breath.

mythsteps · Clown Skeleton

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Child in a Box

author’s note:

I can see myself everywhere.  If I’m willing to look.


CHILD IN A BOX

While finding my way in an unknown town
I spied a child
sitting in a big cardboard box
in the back of an abandoned lot.

I wanted to pity him—

his scratch of land seemed so desolate:

Cold sun rays glinted hard
off broken bottles.
A ragged wind stuck paper scraps
on the barbs of a barb-wire fence.

But despite that scene
the child wouldn't stop laughing.

At what? Perhaps he enjoyed watching
those two crows pick at a scatter of fries.

But when he spotted me, he continued to laugh.

What?  Was I such a joke?
Couldn’t he see how I grieved his plight?
How could I empathize
with him cackling in the wind that way?

With that last question
I suddenly realized
I held this secret wish:

I wanted to see a sad sight
so I could release my sad sighs.
I felt sorry for him, yes
but I also felt sorry for myself.

I was a child abandoned in an empty lot.

But that barbed broken-bottle lot
really wasn’t so empty, was it?
And who had abandoned my child
if not me?

I then began to laugh along with that child—

at the fool who would not let himself play
in this wild sunny world of abundance.

mythsteps · Child In A Box

Get the Message: a short guide for understanding dreams
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton