Working in the Desert Garden

author’s note:

As a boy, I liked that guy Moses.

I still like Moses.  But not the guy—the symbol.


WORKING IN THE DESERT GARDEN

As a child I felt encouraged
when I heard how Moses
managed to exit Egypt.

Like him, I waited patiently
and when those waters finally parted
I split.

But then
as I explored the desert
I discovered
a part of the story
not mentioned in Exodus:
how the chains remain within us
long after our brave escape.

To those struggling
to find their way free
I’ll share what I know for sure:
you must loosen those chains slowly—
link by link by link by link.

When such tedious progress
burdens me down
I’ll lift myself by remembering
those victorious Moseses I’ve met—
they told me:

keep going
and you will eventually reach
the promise land of peace

but along the way
don’t forget to appreciate
the countless blessings
of this desert garden.

mythsteps · Working in the Desert Garden

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

The Quiet Resurrection

author’s note:

Robert Bly didn’t tell men to become wild men.  He told us to feel what we feel.


THE QUIET RESURRECTION

The first time he passed those woods
on the way to school
the sight of their dark depths
caused a sudden thumping in his chest.

As a storm began to roil inside him
that boy of six then remembered
the sci-fi movie he’d seen—
maybe a wild creature within
was trying to take control of him.

So he raced away
and after that day
lowered his head
and crept with hesitant steps
around the forest
so as not to wake the beast.

Unfortunately
he begin to use that same caution
wherever he went—
keep the monster down.
That way of walking
became a way of being.
As a result
by the time he’d reached adulthood
his life felt drained of life.

So he bought a book about
“increasing your vitality”.
But then felt confused when he read:
you must let the life hidden within you live.

Okay, but how?
How could he set free
that unknown unlived life?

He then recalled the dark forest
he’d avoided as a boy.

In his desperation he decided:
maybe a little look would provoke
those ashes in his belly.

So on a quiet afternoon he finally approached
those shadowy woods
and crossed the border
into the shifting twilight shade.

As his heart began to thump
he again became that boy—
afraid some untamed force
would rise up from within
and take control of him—
making him behave in ways
that would wreck his world.

But when the fantasy
didn’t become reality
he actually felt a bit disappointed.
Better the ripping transformation
than the drip drip drip of tedious attrition.

Nonetheless
through his act he did find life.

After his expectations collapsed
he was able to wander through
that ordinary paradise
with thoughtless ease
and soon became entranced
by the sound of soft rain tremoring the leaves.

Only later at home
did he notice that gently buzzing thrill
running through him, body and spirit:

the first sign
he’d begun to resurrect
the life he had buried
down in his dusky dusty depths.

mythsteps · The Quiet Resurrection

Glorious Tedious Transformation: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Blessed Calamity

author’s note:

Amazing that a fraidy cat like me has taken so many chances.


BLESSED CALAMITY

Consider the blessings of calamity:

For years
I dashed here and there
in a rabbit’s hurry
refusing to listen
to the voice saying “stop”.
As a result
I eventually tripped myself up.

But the hard landing woke me
to my blindness—
I realized
I’d raced to escape my anxiety.

Before the fall
I’d imagined myself to be
a lucky soul
protected by an umbrella
held by the gods.
But now I knew the secret:
I’d always feared
the sky might suddenly
fall on my head.

Good to finally see the truth.
But I missed my false courage.
Before, I’d felt too anxious to stop
but now, I felt too anxious to step.

Fortunately last week
another blessed calamity came
to put the spur to me:

a star crashed and burned my backyard black.

Having frozen my legs
I nearly lost my toes in the blaze.
No, we can’t avoid life’s hazards.
Okay okay, I cried, I’ll go forward.

Someone much wiser than I once said:
When the risk of necessary change
seems unbearably scary
consider the risk
of letting your north star fall down in flames.

mythsteps · Blessed Calamity

Common Courage: poetry ebook
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Opulence

author’s note:

It’s all true.  Except for the line about lips ravishing a pig.


OPULENCE

The haphazard search
of my youth
led me to many educational places
including
that verdant rolling campus
I came to on a Sunday afternoon.

There, atop a hill
a band played on an electric stage
while young folk sprawled all over the lawn
in carefully-ripped designer jeans.
Bottles passed from hand to hand.
Lips ravished a pig roasted on a spit.

I responded to the scene with this one word:

“Opulence”

and maybe because I’d walked all day
or maybe because highs
are indeed contagious
I soon became thick dizzy sluggish
and slumped to the ground.

But despite my dimness
as I lay there, I could sense
a tired malaise
pervading the festivities.
What could be the cause?

Why didn’t we shimmy with the breezy trees?
Or flow with the glowing clouds?
The big beat did not move us.

As children, we’d loved
the winking wings of butterflies.
But now we only liked.

Perhaps we’d let our life of abundance
numb us.
In just a short time we’d taken in so much.
Too much.  Much too much.

Shocked awake by the thought
I feared for my life.
Fighting fatigue, I stood
and wobbled back down the hill.

Yes, I learned a lesson that day.
Nonetheless
in this land of excess
I usually forget
to savor life in small sips.

But when I stop
and actually feel what I touch
hear what I hear
see what I see
and taste what I taste—

when I become aware
of what I’m taking in
and in so doing, deepen
my experience of life…

I feel a little scared

because then this world
and myself in it
seem so strange.

At such moments
I feel alive in body and spirit.
And know true opulence.

mythsteps · Opulence

finding Beauty: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Fable of the Man Who Keeps Finding His Peace

author’s note:

True, true, all true.


FABLE OF THE MAN WHO KEEPS FINDING HIS PEACE

Years ago
disturbed by all the turbulence
I decided I should do my part
to calm our hurricane.

But my little agitated wings
only stirred the storm more.

Finally I realized
I could not help unless
I found the peace
the masters said resides within.

So I sat down in a shelter
and closed my eyes and ears
to the storm outside

only to find a storm inside.

Had the wise ones lied to us?
Where was that damn place of peace!
In desperation, I continued

and by working down through
the blow of my noise
I finally discovered
the calm center promised.

So when I resurfaced
I felt especially pleased—
especially proud
and wanted to tell all
about what I’d found.

But what I’d found
was soon lost
when the disturbance
began to disturb me again.

The joy of progress
followed by the pain of regression.
Despairing, I delved once again.

Thus began a pattern
repeated many times since then:
going within
then going back out again.

Back and forth.  Down and up.
The exercise often seems hopeless.
But I persist, because
to survive the weather outside
I need the relief
of my blessed moments of peace.

mythsteps · Fable of the Man Who Keeps Finding His Peace

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Nightly News

author’s note:

A short poem…

…that took me sixty-eight years to write.


NIGHTLY NEWS

I am wounded.  And so is this world:

I hear my pain repeated on the nightly news.

Whether those at the horn use cool reason
or scold and threaten
beneath their words I hear them plead:
How can we end all this wounding?
How can we heal all these wounds?

I believe we all mourn our failure:
even those who celebrate
the wounding they do—
they bellow and sing
to bury the cry of grief within.

Sometimes I tire of trying
to heal this wound—
I ask myself:
Why not sleep until death wakes you?

But then I hear the wounds of the world again
weeping on the nightly news.

mythsteps · Nightly News

My War for Peace: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton