The Dragon Frog

author’s note:

Our dreams show us the many creatures we are.


THE DRAGON FROG

As a child I heard a story
about a diamond honed by fire
in the belly of a dragon
living in a lake underground.

But when I asked my teacher
How can I get down there?
She smiled wisely and explained:
the tale was symbolic--

the dragon actually slept within me

and when I became a adult
that glorious golden creature
would rise to the surface.

Yes, I thought, it’ll roar
And the world will witness
a diamond blazing
on the flame of its tongue.

So with great hope, I waited
and when I thought the time had come
I proudly strode out
and opened my mouth
believing my oration would dazzle.
Yes--like a fiery diamond.

Well, I wasn’t a total fizzle--
occasionally I thought I saw
some crystalline sparks drifting up

but even then
the world did not respond
and in depression I doubted
I would ever be the fire-dragon
of my imagination.

What I experienced instead
was my inner bullfrog
mired down in the muck.

But as any wise swamp-guide will tell you:
deep frogs feel compelled to sing about
this muddy life of ours

and I swear
when I listen closely I can detect
promising glints of diamond light
in my belching eruptions.

And from what I’ve seen I’ve learned
dragons must often live
as subterranean amphibians
before they can birth gems.

But I’m honest enough to admit
I might remain as I am: a lump
stuck in the mud of a swamp.

In any case
I won’t ignore the impulse to croak--
I tried before and died.
Each year, the clocks ticks louder
and the desire to live shouts louder.

Who knows?--
under such pressure this dragon frog
could finally cough up a few jewels.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths
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Hail, The Lowly Hero

author’s note:

Thanks to Marie-Louise von Franz, Robert A. Johnson, Marion Woodman, and Robert Bly for showing me how those stories told my story.


HAIL, THE LOWLY HERO

Influenced by legends and fairy tales
I decided as a child
I should be a hero--

after all
I wanted the best for myself.

But where were the dragons
that needed subduing?
Where were the fair maidens
that needed rescuing?

Without bold extraordinary adventure
how could I realize my high ambition?

Then I remembered:
often in those stories
the grand opportunity of a quest
arrived unexpectedly
at the door of a peasant.

With that in mind,
I would hope and wait

and fill the time by doing
whatever chores I saw
needed to be done:

I planted seeds.  I pulled weeds.
I stirred a wild stew
made from what I’d grown.

That and much more, I did
as well as I possibly could

yet felt embarrassed:
should a knight errant be doing
such low mundane work?

But even as I deflated
I could feel my hands
slowly growing strong.

And didn’t those books say:
heroes must be strong?

And as I worked and waited
was I not making peace
with that dragon I felt
coiling, uncoiling, coiling
restlessly in my heart?

And by trying to save
the better me abandoned
behind the tower wall
was I not actually
trying to save us all?

Yes, I still wait
for the grand opportunity
but now I work joyfully--
imagining myself to be
a hero learning through servitude

but just one among a multitude
growing beautifully
in unseen gardens
all over this world.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton