Universal Sigh

author’s note:

I can’t get through this poem without sighing.


UNIVERSAL SIGH

Science still hasn’t determined
the exact purpose of the sigh

but based on my own empirical research
I can state with confidence:

When we lack adequate language
we breathe a deep sigh
and in that way
give voice to the soul
and in so doing
ease the heart’s burden.

Yes—
my heart would’ve collapsed long ago
from the strain of being a human being
had I not occasionally exhaled
the sigh that expresses this wish:
If only things could be different.

But sighs aid in other situations as well.
For instance:

My heart stopped
when I first saw
that stark violet mountain

but then started again
when I released a deep sigh.

I believe sighs also help
the hearts of other creatures—
many times I’ve heard soul
in a dog’s sigh.  I’ve also heard soul
in the sighs of cats.

I remember the first time
I felt a tree sigh:

As I lay in the fallen leaves
beneath those bare black branches
what I felt in that sigh
was what I often feel in mine
when I listen deeply
and that is:

this life is too much for me
and yet, I want more life.

Based on empirical research
I say:
the whole damn Universe sighs!

I have felt the mountain sigh
as the stars appeared in the blue-black sky.
Then felt the soulful sigh
of the moon rising over the peak.
Then felt the stars sigh
as they gazed down upon me.

I then answered them all
with my own full sigh.

I always feel less alien
when I sigh along with the song
of the great Universal sigh.

mythsteps · Universal Sigh

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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

A Belief Better Suited to the Situation

author’s note:

Dreams seem real because they are real.


A BELIEF BETTER SUITED TO THE SITUATION

I opened my eyes
to find myself adrift—
bobbing in what seemed to be
a night sea.
Cold had numbed my spine.

No stars above to guide me.
I thought I saw shoreline lights in the distance.
But then I saw nothing.
No horizon—
black water had merged with black sky.

All I’d heard about
“seizing your personal power”
seemed absurd now.

I couldn’t even control my own anxiety.
My fear kept pulling me down.

Fortunately
I then remembered a belief
better suited to the situation:

when we feel helplessly lost
we only need to surrender—
the heavenly powers will assist
if you’re willing to admit
the truth of your weakness.

Though I doubted that promise
I realized:
by adopting the strategy
I could conserve energy.

So I lay myself back
spread my arms wide
and said to the sky:
I will accept whatever happens
as being part of some higher plan.

The waters then did what waters do:
they floated a body at rest.
However
I did not feel at rest
and worried I might drown in worry.

But then
the clouds began to break apart
to reveal a big round moon—
a tap that poured its pure light down
to fill my empty cup—
as I gazed up
into the luminous source
a surge of love flooded through my being.

Why that response?
Innate, I guess.  Perhaps we possess
a higher instinct.
In any case, I relaxed in an instant

and remained spellbound
for what could have been a few minutes
for what could have been a few hours

but then my shoulders nudged the sandy shore—
the current had taken me home.

When pinned
in some unexpected unavoidable predicament
sometimes (but certainty not all the time)
I should surrender to the circumstance.

But often
passive acceptance
feels even scarier
than aggressive resistance.

At such times, sometimes
I’m able to settle the inner conflict
by remembering
the way I saved my life
in a blessed dream that night.

mythsteps · A Belief Better Suited to the Situation

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Working to Earn a Gift of Wings

author’s note:

To those reading this poem five hundred years from now:

Humans used to count off seconds by saying “one Mississippi”…two Mississippi…three Mississippi…” and so on.


WORKING TO EARN A GIFT OF WINGS

This morning
while painting the eaves
I suddenly felt what I hadn’t felt in weeks:
that tension in my shoulders

as once again
two wing buds bulged out
from my scapula bones—
right side and left.

I knew, from experience
I shouldn’t try to force those buds to sprout.
But despite my restraint
the shoots shrank back
before I could count to “nine Mississippi”.

Yes, teasers like that one disappoint
but at the same time
they reawaken hope—
this morning, I vowed once more:
one day with wings I’ll soar.

Don't laugh
know what’s possible—
years ago I met someone
who could fly to the high clouds
on wings she usually kept hidden.

And occasionally for me
two shoots have shot all the way out
and spread into wings.
Yes, the feathery sails soon retracted
but I still had enough time each time
to go on a short flight
like the one once done at Kitty Hawk.

But I’m not waiting idly
for such blessings to descend:
every day I work to elevate heart and head
hoping unseen forces
(both without and within)
will respond when I rise high enough—
will reward me
with a permanent set of reliable wings

to unfurl when the need arises.

But I though I use tested tools
I only bump up a tiny bit each day.
So I’m realistic:
I may not live long enough to earn that wingspan.
Nonetheless
I’ll keep trying all the way to the end—
I will because
the innocent in me still believes
my daily efforts at elevation
help lift this ground-dwelling species up.

Yes, I realize
my total contribution
may only be one iota
but with enough iotas
we will have iotas enough.

mythsteps · Working to Earn a Gift of Wings

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The Ghost Lady & Me

author’s note:

Maybe every place on earth is haunted, in one way or another.


THE GHOST LADY & ME

The desk clerk says:
people have often seen
the ghost lady
as she ascends this hotel stairway—
her steps heavy with grief.

I believe I know
the reason she doesn’t move on.

I believe, like me
she’s trying to reach a place
of perspective—a place
where we finally feel at peace
with losses that seem so unjust.

Occasionally I’m able
to rise that high.
But then my ego feels threatened
and begins to fight for survival

and in the spin of the ensuing battle
I will eventually trip and tumble

and go bump bump bump bump bump
back down the stairs.

Just as the ghost lady did
the night she died.
As she still does
every evening at this old hotel.

But despite our failure to hold the position
after we land, we always stand
and start the struggle
all over again—
because in those brief moments at the top
our hearts feel
the relief of freedom.

No, I may never be able
stay at that place of peace
on a permanent basis
but each time I climb
I grow a wee bit stronger—
so who knows?

So much joy to be found
in this stubbornness!—
I bet the ghost lady feels it
each night as she tries to rise
to a new life
at this grand antique hotel.

mythsteps · Ghost Lady and Me

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