Declaration of Independence

author's note:

This poem has become my Fourth of July tradition.

Happy birthday, America!--I love your mad beauty, despite the flaws.


DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

I'll be damn if I'll be terrorized
by anyone

including the beast in my mirror.

If I can face that monster
why should I cower
before those who lack
the courage to look
into their own reflections?

When they bombard me
my legs may tremble
but I won't sit--
no, I'll pirouette
in a defiant dance of joy!

And if they curse me
with cutting words
I’ll answer with a song designed
to soothe the wounds
that are theirs and mine.

But my empathy still has limits:
I must heal myself more before
I have heart enough to love them.

So though I declare with sincerity
I can not yet say
I’m completely free.

Poet, Heal Thyself: poetry ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

Fable of the Fool who Kicked

author’s note:

I’m embarrassed to say: based on a true story.


FABLE OF THE FOOL WHO KICKED

Considering
all the obstinate obtuse obstacles
I’ve encountered on this path...

I naturally felt frustrated
at that librarian kneeling in the aisle
between the bookshelves--
he must have known
I stood behind him, waiting to pass.

So I felt justified in giving him
a little kick on the heel of his shoe--
after all, I’d been told:
you must assert your rights as an individual!

Only later did I see:
I’d wanted to ease the pain
of so many losses
by scoring a small win
in the history section.

But as soon as my toe hit his heel
the violence of the act, though slight
awoke my higher self.
As if by instinct, I felt ashamed.
Again, I saw:
causing hurt does not cure your hurt.

So even though that humble man said
"oh excuse me"
I rushed to declare
"I'm terribly sorry—please forgive me!"

Later at home
I tried to relieve my guilt
by making right foot strike left foot--

once...twice...
then I realized:
instead of kicking just one person
I’d now kicked two.

As I relate this story
I’m embarrassed
but not discouraged

if we grow through humility
maybe by retelling this tale

I’ve grown just a little closer
to becoming
a fool who never aims his toe--
or better yet:
one who doesn’t even want to kick.

33 1/3 New Fables & Myths: ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton

A Wounded Paradise

author's note:

A wounded paradise is still a paradise.


A WOUNDED PARADISE

Maybe I'll make for myself
a black booth--
a sanctuary where
I could confess crimes
I would never ever commit:

wild capers
malicious mischief
rabid fancies--

a devilish release
but with a heavenly purpose:
to bark this growling dog
out of me.

Thus relieved
maybe I could relax
for just a bit...

or maybe not--
I've flared many times before
and afterwards
while sitting in the silent ashes
I have heard the sad pain
hidden behind my cry

and again realized
the truth behind
the fiery cry rising
from our wounded paradise.

We bark...we howl
but no amount
can ever heal the wound--
actually
an eruption too extreme
only seems to tear me more.

Nevertheless, I wonder if
a little private yelp could help
me cool occasionally
when I feel the hackles rising

and afterwards, in the silence
maybe I'd hear again the great pain
that drives the violence of our world

and so, remember
what I must never forget:
I am truly doing some good
for us all
as I work to doctor
this human being
born into
a wounded paradise.

© 2017, Michael R. Patton
My War for Peace: a poetry book