Story from a NIght Stranger

author’s note:

Based on a true story?

Kinda.


STORY FROM A NIGHT STRANGER

Consider this humble tale
told to me by a stranger:

while living alone in the country
she opened her door one night
to a silent explosion of light.

By instinctive response
she kicked the door shut
then in an instant realized:
she’d lost her chance.

At what?--she wasn’t sure--
but something more
than she’d ever known before.

So she flung the door back open

but of course
saw only darkness
deepening into the trees.

Though she knows
the opportunity will probably never return
she’s also seen
what can happen
when you give up hope
so

every day
she works to be ready--
she works to build strength
by constantly trying to find
the truth hidden within
the cloud of noise in her brain.
She works to build strength
by delving deeper
and deeper
into the well of her mirror.

She shares with others
the light she finds
in her foggy head
in her dark depths.

But I wanted my own light
so I asked her
how can I delve down?
Teach me how to work.

But she turned then
and returned to the shadows.

Her soft smile of parting
said:
I’ve learned the blessing of loss.
The sharp gleam in her eye told me:
I know
you will find your own way.

Yes--
I now know how to build strength.
So maybe I’ll be ready
should I ever open my door
to a silent explosion of light.

mythsteps · Story from a Night Stranger

Common Courage: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Only a Fool Argues with Stone

author’s note:

I learned the way I often learn: the hard way.


ONLY A FOOL ARGUES WITH STONE

Long ago a clever storyteller saw
the features of a human face
on the gray stone of the bluff
overlooking the bend in the river

then invented the tale
of the wise woman spirit
who sees all who pass as her children
and warns them with an echo:
steer away from the rocky shore.

A legend we love because
both young and old
want to feel protected by Mother.

Many of those who canoe
down the river today
will slow their paddles at the bluff
and ask that stone sage for guidance.

And the ones who truly listen
may discern an answer
buried within
the distorted amplification
booming back across the water.

I’ve known people who refused to accept
what they needed to do
until they heard the woman of stone say:
you know the truth.

But you need not travel to our river
when burdened with a question.
I say:
wise stone spirits can be found
all over this planet

and if we approach with reverence
they will tell us
what we need to know--
even if they don’t echo
we can hear their thoughts
if we quiet our hearts.

I myself have sometimes received
an answer of truth
from a cliffside or a boulder
or even a rock in the sand.

And though I often want
to reject that wisdom
I don’t because I’ve learned:

only a fool
argues with stone.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

When I Look Into My Eyes

author’s note:

The eyes don’t lie.


WHEN I LOOK INTO MY EYES

Sometimes
when human life seems so base
I will look into my eyes
hoping to witness an inner spirit
shining up from the dark depths.

But at first I’ll usually only see
a reflection of the sadness
that brought me to the mirror.

So then in desperation
I’ll work hard to penetrate
those two black pools

and in that way
go into a meditation
and if I stay long enough
I’ll achieve
the relative stillness
of a relative peace.

Then I can again believe
that I am more than I seem to be.

But here’s the real secret:
occasionally when I’m in that state
I’ll find in the darkness
a purple jewel covered
with countless pure facets--
each one a window revealing
a light embedded in the core.

Though I just get glimpses
I can see
that stone possesses
an untroubled patience
developed over eons.

Maybe you’ll say
I’m only seeing
what I wish to see
but I swear to you:
to see the best of myself
can be as unsettling
as seeing the worst.

What a responsibility!
No wonder we’re afraid
of our own deep beauty.
No wonder we pretend
to be so base.

Listening to Silence: poetry book
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Therapists in the Natural World

author's note:

The extraordinary patience of things!
            -- Robinson Jeffers


THERAPISTS IN THE NATURAL WORLD

I often return to this path in solitude
but I never feel alone--
I know I’m being watched.

See that monolithic boulder over there?--
see how it stares?

And this old dark oak tree
has all its eyes on me.

I sense they know my secrets.

Maybe I’m imagining
but wise ones have often noted
the intelligence of mountains
and rivers and stones.

How did those beings get so smart?

I believe:
in past lives they lived
as humans.
And through lessons learned
managed to elevate their souls.

That’s why this little stream
can understand my pain.
I find its empathy comforting.
Like the others
it listens without judging.

That’s not to say these friends
always agree with me--
they know when
I’m not being honest
with myself.

Nonetheless not one ever protests:
they know if they wait patiently
I’ll eventually lead myself around
to the truth I’ve avoided--
the soul truth.

This flowing green field
welcomes me down
to a bed of wild grass
so I can find my strength.

finding Beauty: poetry book
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Shadows Attached

author’s note:

I hear people saying they want to see shows with characters who look like them.  I say:

Even E.T. looks like me.  Even Rin Tin Tin.


SHADOWS ATTACHED

Years ago, some ruckus outside
roused me from my sweet blanket

and when I went to the window to locate
the source of the disturbance
I found men, women, children
running from the shadows
attached to their heels.

Seeing their fear pained me.
How could I help those poor fools?

I tried to call to them
but my little voice was lost
in that cacophony.
So I put telescope to eye
hoping to discern some among the throng
who I could awaken to reality.

But this closer look
changed my perspective:
before I’d seen them as “them”
but now I saw them as individuals--
none of whom looked like me
yet with each face I felt the shock
of catching myself in a mirror--
he was me but also she--regardless of age--
the child taking its first step?--me as well.

With that recognition, I realized
the best next step for me:
I would stop
and confront
those long dark pools
attached to my sore feet.

What I Learned While Alone: poetry ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Grand Life

author’s note:

Some say we never learn the lessons of history.

Well, I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned much from mine.


GRAND LIFE

Maybe the key ingredient in alchemy
is time.  Consider:

though this moment seems rather leaden
it may shine like gold years in retrospect.

On the other hand
time can also diminish.
Consider:

an event that once pumped me up
may appear quite empty
when I look back.

But is the revised view always true?

Maybe I shouldn’t ponder the past
and instead, relax
and enjoy every fresh moment
as the masters instruct.

But I do see each moment as precious--
that’s why
I want to know I haven’t wasted
so many of those moments gifted to me.
What is the truth--the value
of what I’ve done with my time?

Well, this much I can say for certain:
when I stop trying to judge
and allow myself to feel--to feel it all--
all of it all at once:
the past, the present--
even the future

what floods me then
becomes much too much
for me to express.

With that in mind, I’ve surmised:
we must be living something grand.

floor show journey: slow tv
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Still Working to Reach the Angel

author’s note:

When a man hears angels singing
he hears angels singing.
              -- Mary Oliver


STILL WORKING TO REACH THE ANGEL

Having lived among us for so long
angels have lowered their expectations.

Thus
they no longer feel angry at us--
they feel pity

for creatures so weak, so low.

One day
a winged shadow on the lawn
startled me out of the storm
in my mind.
Up above, I spied
an angel flying away--
tired of hearing me thunder.

At once I saw I was losing
the spirit that could save me
from my thunderstorm.

In desperation
I raised my arms
opened my hands
and began to beseech with a song.

I’d hoped to let flow
the lovely notes of a dove.
Instead, my voice cut the air
like the sharp dry caw of a crow.

But to an angel
any cry of humility sounds beautiful
because the supplicant openly admits
the painful truth.

And so, in response to my plea
the cherub circled round
to perch in an elm tree near me

as if to say:
since you now see my value
I will stay

but if you want me
you must reach me.

Fortunately, angels know
how slow we humans grow
and so
they’ll wait patiently--
as long as we keep trying.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

A Deep Drop

author’s note:

You’re just as much a paradox as I am.


A DEEP DROP

Before I fell asleep in the field
I recalled the waterdrop seen
on that dark-purple flower petal

and felt: I’m just a drop.

But as consciousness
slowly evaporated
into darkness
I felt myself
deepening down.

Then when I awoke
after an hour
or maybe a month
I remembered feeling
so small.
I remembered feeling
so deep.

I felt our truth again.

So easy to forget.

Listening to Silence: poetry ebook
© 2021, Michael R. Patton

Dreaming the Truth

author's note:

Heart attacks often occur in the morning hours during the last phase of REM (dream) sleep.


DREAMING THE TRUTH

The truth must actually be important:

otherwise why would my dreams
ruin a soft nourishing sleep
by revealing the true chaos
of my waking life?--

ruin, by revealing
my relentless distress

then add to that distress
by revealing
I’m not yet over the sorrow
I thought I’d put to rest
years ago

and then
at the end of night
stun me one more time
by revealing the love
behind my dislike
and the anger raging under
what I thought
was calm acceptance.

No wonder our hearts often burst
while we're asleep...

but maybe my dreams will be
a little easier on me
if I can wake myself
to more of the truth
amid the chaos of these days.

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