Living with Ghosts

author’s note:

A long time ago, I learned to make pain my friend.
              -- Kid USA, pro wrestler


LIVING WITH GHOSTS

I’ve learned:
I can’t get rid of a ghost by shouting
Leave me alone!
No—
curses and pleading
will not dislodge a ghost.

Nor can I outrun them.
For years, I sped like a bullet train
but when finally forced to stop
my ghosts shot out of the shadows.

Sometimes a ghost may seem
to disappear completely.
But then something I hear or see
will raise that wraith from the grave.

I’ve wrestled with my specters for years
and lost a million times or more.
So now I’m trying a new strategy:

whenever a ghost resurrects
and an old wound wounds me once more
I’ll try to remain calm
and say quite casually:
Well, hello my old companion—
stay if you want—leave when you wish.
No, I’m not finally at peace with you
but I waste so much energy
when I try to fight or flee.

However
I won’t sit
when your sadness
tries to leaden my heart—
No!
I’ll leap and skip in a golden dance.
Though I can’t deny you, I can defy you.

But maybe I should thank you.
Didn’t I learn through you?—
Didn’t I grow?
Yes, and now I’ll learn even more
by staring deep into your eyes
with all their shades of blue.

But though I say in my head:
You should embrace that ghost
my words I haven’t yet convinced my heart.
So until I grow some more
the best I can do is accept you
and dance dance dance—
dance ‘til the night becomes dawn.

mythsteps · living with ghosts

What I Learned While Alone: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Bless the Starlings

author’s note:

I don’t think they like me either.


BLESS THE STARLINGS

Yesterday I woke at dawn
with a sense of disturbance.
Looking out the window
I then saw the cause:

a hundred starlings loitered in my yard.

A foul fowl in my opinion:
traveling in herds, they shove out all the other birds.
Arrogant.  Ignorant.  Belligerent.
Their voices always full of complaint.

So I waved my arms
and shooed those devils away.

But they merely circled round
and settled back down on my lawn.

So again I waved and shouted.

Only to see the flock return moments later
with dozens more in its defiant chorus.

After two more tries
I finally said with a sigh:
“Okay you feathered fiends, you win.”

Then went inside.

But I could still hear
the racket of that flock—
the fidgety fluttering, the raspy chattering.

But what could I do?

I saw no other option
but to fall back on my bed
and try to accept what I’d rejected.
Maybe I could become accustomed
to the torture.
Then my anger might unclench its fist
and I would know calm within.

And indeed—
as I endured patiently
I felt the ruckus slowly settle down
to a dull innocuous murmuring.
Yes, I achieved a relative peace.

Then suddenly all grew still
both inside and out.

I realized the starlings had fled.
By surrendering, I’d won.

But that vacuum was soon filled
as my inner monologue began again—
amplified now by the quiet.

That spiel spills out
with hardly a pause
during my waking hours.
Sometimes the words come from
an elevated place.
But more often the words come
from a place lower down.
That’s not what I want to hear from myself.
But I haven’t found a way
to shut that base voice down.

Sometimes I’ll stop
and shoo that noise away.
But too soon the disturbance returns.

Yeah—
just like those starlings on my lawn yesterday.

My opinion of the species
remains pretty much the same
and yet, I bless them now—

through those birds perhaps I’ve learned
a way to come to terms
with that lowdown being inside of me
fighting for survival.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
dream steps blog
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© 2025, 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

Searching for my best beliefs: poetry book
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Between a Lion & a Worm

author's note:

"Red wigglers…the Cadillac of worms!”
            -- from the TV series WKRP in Cincinnati


BETWEEN A LION & A WORM

The phenomenon known
as shape shifting
is a common occurrence.
Consider:

I've seen lions become worms
and hide under stones
after accepting the lie told to them.
But that need not be a tragedy—
a big cat can benefit
from living subterranean

because as a worm
it can feed upon
the rich life to be found
in the loam below the surface.

But as that grubber expands
its safe space
will began to feel
suffocating.

The crawler must then decide:
will I die as a worm
or emerge

and live as a lion?

I predict:
when we look back
on our worm-life
we will reject all regrets

because then
we’ll be able to see
all we learned
in our life as a worm.

mythsteps · Between a Lion and a Worm

© 2024, Michael R. Patton
glorious tedious transformation: a poetry book

An Important Belief

author's note:

To the woman who tried to teach me the rules of grammar in high school:

“Mrs. Creighton, wherever you are, please excuse the redundancy in verse three.”


AN IMPORTANT BELIEF

How could I accept the death
of someone who seemed

too soon gone from us--
her good work unfinished?

Maybe the answer I found sounds cliché
but years later
I still think it’s a good belief:
we die when our time is done.

Yes--
for reasons we can not know
the beacon needed to die when he did
though his light was so desperately needed.

And that man possessed
needed to take his final step
though his glorious bridge
was only halfway across.

And the group needed
to fly away from here
though in leaving, they left
so much creative passion
unexpressed.

Yes--
apparently, the scientist
needed to exit
on that exact day
though she was only weeks away
from a discovery
that would have saved lives.

To those who want to argue
with my idea, I merely reply:

I believe it’s a good belief
because it says:
don’t try to make sense
of what seems senseless.
Just accept and grieve
without feeling angry.

But maybe this belief
serves an even better purpose:

when I remember what I believe
I again realize
I’d better get going--
no matter how important
my plans seem
Death may not wait.

And with that thought
the present moment
suddenly becomes
monumentally important.

Yeah, I believe I have
some important plans...

Nonetheless
if I fell down dead tonight
I think I'd rest in peace--
comforted by the belief
I’d reached my expiration date--
I had reached my due date.

dream steps blog
myth steps blog
picturing metaphor
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

After the Funeral I Create My Own Ritual

author’s note:

I have nothing against traditional rituals.

I say: whatever works for you.


AFTER THE FUNERAL I CREATE MY OWN RITUAL

Until late that afternoon...

I sent those small smooth round stones
skipping in delightful arcs
across the still water:

some making seven or eight or more hops--
others...only three or four

while a few, I regret to say
went ka-plunk
without jumping even once.

With every throw
I imagined that stone
excited to fly--joyful

then, whatever the outcome
content to sink, to rest

to be back with the lake.

When my arm finally said
okay--enough
I drove home in acceptance:

the beginnings of a peace.

you tube channel
Dancing to Raven’s Song: a novel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton

What We Obviously Want

author's note:

“The destruction that brings
 an eagle from heaven is better
 than mercy.”
               -- Robinson Jeffers


WHAT WE OBVIOUSLY WANT

In the dream, I know I must step
on a certain round stone
in the cobblestone street--

understanding
that red stone will explode
and in a wild rush of wrath
I’ll be blasted open--
and without ever losing consciousness--
yes, while that raw fire rages
I’ll feel every excoriating moment.

But I claim no distinction:

when she found that sledgehammer
in the weeds beside the road
instinctively, she knew the brutal tool
would own her for the next thirty years
yet she lifted it anyway.

Why do we deliberately step on bombs?
Why do we pick up those sledgehammers?
Why do we empty our veins to feed the fields?
Why-oh-why
do we wander this desert?

Obviously
we want to find our strength.

searching for the new mythology
Glorious Tedious Transformation
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Lionix

author’s note:

“The lamb will lie down with the lion...but the lamb won’t get very much sleep.”
                  –  Woody Allen


LIONIX

The lion presses its paw
down onto my back
as I sleep, my face into the pillow.

If I look up
I fear
the claws may fall
into my eyes.

No matter--I can’t turn around
with that paw pushing down.
I have a mouthful of goosedown:
I’m nearly suffocating.

Now the lion begins to stroke
through my flesh
--as casually as raking leaves.
Showing some slight curiosity.

But of course--a cat.

Has the beast
come to free me?
To dig down
all the way
to my heart?

The lion lifts its paw
to claw again.
I seize the moment--turn over--

to face its wet black nose,
the splendid teeth,
splintery whiskers.
Those golden
dispassionate eyes.

If I am to be freed
through such rude treatment
I want first to address my unmasker.

But the lion clamps its free paw
over my mouth
while the other paw
now digs into
that most tender place.

The indignity!

I grab the leg
at the foot joint
and try to pry the paw loose.

I don’t want to scream,
merely to speak,
to tell the lion
just what I think--
       make the big cat
       feel shame,
       if at all possible.

But then I realize
I’m only trying
to defend myself.

So I let go of the leg.

I have nothing to say
to the beast now
except,
          “Hurry up.”

© 2009, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio
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