Opening for a Morning

author’s note:

The recording may sound a little rough, but I refuse to use auto-tune.


OPEN FOR A MORNING

This morning, a shock of grief

when the news showed that jet
shattered and smoldering in a field.

But every day I see a disaster report.
Why did this latest elicit
such a strong response?

Perhaps I used that crash
to mourn my own losses—
I needed to open—
to open that well—

the well I usually keep lidded
because if I didn’t
I could be overwhelmed
by sudden upswells of emotion
at random times throughout the day.
How could I possibly function?

The problem is:
after a day of functioning efficiently
I can feel so dully dry.

But when I break down
like I did this morning
I often feel fully alive.

So I guess I wept
in order to save my life.

But I know
from past experience
this release could also
help one or two others live today:

following a swell of grief
like the one I felt this morning
I’m often able to sense the losses
of crash survivors I meet

and some of them seem to respond
to my unspoken empathy—
they share feelings
usually kept under the lid.

And as they open

I’m overwhelmed by my well
once again.

I guess the truth is:
on days like today
I’m actually functioning
at a higher level.

mythsteps · Open for a Morning

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The Sun-Fire Pool

author’s note:

Did I actually see that sun pool?

Well, no, not literally.  But yeah, I did.


THE SUN-FIRE POOL

Years ago, I woke to see
a whirling circle of sun-fire
emerging from a fog cloud
hovering right above me—

concentric bands
of razzling orange-gold energy.

But with a peaceful pool
in the center—
its aqua-blue surface
deepening down into cobalt blue.

I felt that well draw me in
and shut my eyes in fright

but then in a fright, realized
I might’ve lost my chance
to know a greater mystery.

So I popped my lids back open.

But of course
the fog and fire and pool
had vanished.

I knew then
every morning I’d hope to find
that whirling sun-fire above me
when I opened my eyes.
And likely be disappointed
every morning.

Yes—years have passed
and I haven’t yet received
a second invitation.
But my feeling sense tells me:
the mystery still lurks
on the other side of the curtain.

So I remain tantalized.
No, I have not given up.

But I’m not merely waiting
I’m working—
every day when I rise
I repeat this message to myself:

I will earn the return
by becoming strong enough
to overcome the natural fear
of jumping into the fiery hoop—
the fear
of descending up through
the deep cobalt blue.

mythsteps · THE SUN-FIRE POOL

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Headlight on the Hilltop

author's note:

I’m living in outer space.  But so is everyone else.


HEADLIGHT ON THE HILLTOP

Yeah—
what I saw was probably
just a car headlight
switching from low to bright
up there atop the hill.

Nonetheless
the sight thrilled my heart
and hypnotized my eyes.

So when the light blinked off
a minute or so later
I searched the heavens
hoping it might reappear.

But no—
all I saw was a litter of stars.

But so many—
more than I could possibly take in.

Once again
I realized my little mind
could never ever even begin to comprehend
this grand production
called
“The Universe”.

Once again I thought:
I’m but a wee bit of stardust
in an endless ocean of wonder.

Yeah, probably just a headlight
switching from low to bright.

But a blessed event, nonetheless
because I used that flash
to remind myself:

We’re just a miniscule drop in the cosmos.

But that means:

we’re part of something magnificently mysterious.

And that means:

like all the other pieces
you and I are beautiful secrets.

mythsteps · Headlight on the Hilltop

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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Fable of the Clam Who Opened

author’s note:

Planning a vacation?


FABLE OF THE CLAM WHO OPENED

She left a note
for the old woman upstairs
saying:
don’t worry—
just wanted to realize the dream
of escaping to
a tropical island.

But as often happens to human clams
as she lay on the beach
the tide crept up and pulled her down—
down through the shallows
until she fell from the shelf
into that roiling murky bay bottom.

Frightened by the depth
she closed even more
which only increased the pressure—
the pressure that comes
when a clam clamps down on itself
and tries not to feel what it’s feeling.

No longer able to ignore the pressure
she realized she’d soon explode
if she didn’t let go.
And so she finally opened:

an action that brought her back to the beach—
she awoke shaken but stronger.

Many have shared their own version of this fable:
when we try to escape change
the better one within
may pull us down into an ordeal
that will only end when we end
our resistance.

Good to remember that moral.
But let’s also inscribe on our minds
the second part of the story:

In the following years
many in distress
crossed the path of our heroine
and when they sensed her openness
often responded
by opening to her

and as they gave themselves up
they released the pressure building within
and so, did not explode
but defused with a peaceful song:

wave upon wave of notes—
high and low, low and high.

mythsteps · Fable of the Clam Who Opened

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
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