Stop & Go

author’s note:

We’re all explorers.


STOP & GO

We’ve seen this story before:

A seeker runs
here and there and everywhere
hoping to find what might satisfy
a nameless need vaguely sensed.

But exhaustion
finally forces the searcher to stop.

They then try to appease
their desire to explore
by turning their eyes around
and looking inside themselves.

A story much like my own:

The search lifted my spirit
but because I didn’t know
I needed to rest
I eventually felt drained of spirit—
empty.

So then I had to sit
and try to recover what I’d lost.

But luckily I remembered
what I’d once read in a book:
you will find a secret well
down in your dark depths.

Curious what I might discover
but also desperate for a cure
I then delved within.

And yes—
as I descended, I began to sense
a subtle strength rising up—
filling me up
lifting me up

and so I stood again
and began to walk again
and began to run again
and search again
then examine what I found.

I’ve continued that routine
to this day:
I scurry about
filling myself with experience
until I begin
to feel exhausted
in body and mind.

Then I again sit down
and shut up
and begin to delve—
knowing
the well waters will rise
in steady response.

But these days
I linger a while
before I go
so I can explore
those fathomless waters.

mythsteps · stop and go

Listening to Silence: poetry book
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© 2024, Michael R. Patton

Quiet Ecstasy

author's note:

I'd like to recommend: Ecstasy: Understanding the Psychology of Joy by Robert A. Johnson.


QUIET ECSTASY

Stand up!

Having heard those words all my life
by now, the command’s
baked-in

so any time gravity
seems to increase
I automatically fight
to stay on my feet

and if I slip to my knees
I’ll then see defeat
and curse myself, yelling:
Stand--dammit, stand!

Then in response
I’ll push my body upright
and keep on going.
Here’s the routine:

I walk until I drop
then force myself back up.
I walk until I drop
then force myself back up.

A pattern broken when
the force of nature
grows stronger
than my conscious will.

At that point
realizing I’ve no real choice
I’ll finally surrender
and lay myself down--all the way down
on my back on the ground.

Then comes the slow sweet ache
of vertebrae softly bursting
to sink down hungry thirsty roots--
to tap the heavy water and feed
on the rich black pith of the earth.

I once thought “ecstasy” meant
a flail of dancing
and long howls at the moon.

Yes, but not always:
sometimes ecstasy comes
from holding yourself still as a well
and allowing body and spirit to fill
with an excruciating sense
of life’s abundance

while fighting the fear
of being overwhelmed.
And stopping myself from standing again
as soon as I’m able to crawl back up--
forcing myself to wait ‘til I’m done--
wait until I’ve regained
the full strength of my love.

Yes, I want to show how tough I am
but this walk feels joyless--empty
whenever I lose my sense of beauty.

© 2020, Michael R. Patton
Listening to Silence: poetry ebook