How to Make Death Smile

author’s note:

Is Death a “he”?

Yes—if Birth is a “she”.


HOW TO MAKE DEATH SMILE

As is typical of youth
when I was young I ignored
the possibility I could die young.

Even as I watched
so many with the same blindness
stumble into graves.

Only later
as I looked back
did I see how lucky I’d been.

I then began to step more carefully.

But now as I watch
so many my age
retire to their graves
I worry I’m becoming
just a little too cautious.

The life I’m afraid to lose
won’t have much life
if I don’t follow
the true desire of my spirit

which was and still is:

to go forth and know the world.

So though my legs tremble
I will stretch my stride.
No, the width won’t match that of my youth.
But the stubborn fool I am now
shows more courage
than the obtuse fool I once was

because now I can feel Death
watching me and waiting
as I struggle on these steps.

But my reaper is not so grim.
No, beneath that black hood
he smiles wide in appreciation.

Death sees I am doing
what he wants us to do:
to grow in strength
by confronting
the deep fear that keeps us alive.

mythsteps · how to make Death smile

Survival: poetry book
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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

A Better Fool

author's note:

Just once, I would've liked to have seen Wile E. Coyote ring Road Runner's neck.


A BETTER FOOL

As a child, I admired
the heroic defeat--

for instance:

the weary warrior rising to defend
poor children cowering in shadow corners--
she struggles--relentless--
though she knows her sacrifice
will not end the grief

or
the fallen explorer--
as he slowly fades, he raises his arms
toward the white sparkling peak--
just out of reach.

Such stories told me:
you need not win
in order to ascend to glory--
by remaining strong in abject loss
you can earn a place
in the hall of the brave.

Obsession
could actually lift me to grace.

But wait--
what about those cartoons
of the desert coyote obsessively pursuing
that empty-headed ground-dwelling bird?--

no grandeur when
the bomb explodes in his hand--
toasting his foolish head
to a burnt-black crisp

or when
the chase leads him off a cliff--
his bewildered eyes looking at us
for a mid-air moment of stillness--

saying:
"oh no!--but oh well--
 another hard landing."

The folly of the coyote
woke me to this risk:

by fighting ever onward
despite repeated failure
I could become rabidly absurd

but no--not if I went for bigger game:

if I elevated my goals
I might still be a fool
but I wouldn't be a silly fool--

by always reaching higher
I'd feel fulfilled even if I failed--

even if I suffered a million losses
I would not lose.

© 2019, Michael R. Patton
40 New Fables: ebook

Another Battle Won

author's note:

"We have met the enemy and he is us."
       -- Walt Kelly, Pogo


ANOTHER BATTLE WON

Yesterday, as I skipped
down the sidewalk
I thought I glimpsed
a vulture circling!

and like a fool, I ran
ran again
without thinking

and as fools often do
I tripped--
tripped again
and hit

the hard ground hard

then found only empty sky above.

I tried to laugh
but as I lay on my back
I began to feel
my real adversary again--
the parasite of needless fear:

its chattering teeth
trying to devour
the will of my better desire--

I wanted to jump up and run!

But as I fought to find
the strength to stand
I woke again
to that other feeling--
a feeling buried deep:

so subtle, so quiet, yet so solid--

a knowingness that says: all is well
(despite what you think)

a knowingness beyond reason.

The parasite then lost its teeth
(for the moment at least)
and I stood up
and walked on...

another battle won.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
my war for peace: poetry ebook

Sharing the Price of Fire

author's note:

To be clear: the returning hero could just as well have been a heroine.


SHARING THE PRICE OF FIRE
(aka FABLE OF THE HERO'S RETURN)

Yes, I was the one
who brought fire down:

I lay myself open
on the mountain top
and waited until
the thunder god blasted me
with a lightning bolt.

Yes, I paid a great price
so the people would have fire.

But when I returned home
brandishing the torch
the one waiting at the door
saw how charred and scarred I was--
and said:

Blasted empty--
now I’m partner to a tremoring shadow.

“The world and you
  will soon bless my offering,”
  I countered.

“The truth is:
  you did it for yourself--
  now sit down
  and let me apply the salve.”

No, I didn't receive
the praise I believe
a true hero deserves

but I realized this blessing:
she actually understands me

and not only accepts my foibles
but loves me enough to help me deal
with whatever demons may plague me
after this horrific triumph.

40 New Fables
myth steps blog
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© 2018, Michael R. Patton