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

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© 2025, Michael R. Patton

Old Song of Youth

author’s note:

Do not resist the rose
lest you burn in its fire.
        -- Gabriela Mistral (trans. L. Hughes)


OLD SONG OF YOUTH

The poets of old were right:
spring does indeed sing
in the zesty blood of youth.

I remember a spring day years ago--
oh how I tried to ignore
that playful song
and focus on my schoolwork.

But then the rhapsody raised its pitch--
crying of sex, yes, but something more than sex.
So I stopped to listen
and began to feel
the bright green of spring
singing in my blood.

But though my spirit begged for expression
I fastened my mind and body down--
down!

Sitting here, decades later
I chide that starved student in my head--
telling him
he should’ve surrendered
and run through the blazing green fields.

But I’m cut short
as a breeze gushes
through the window--
in the rush
I swear I hear that dizzy kid whisper:
I’m still in your heart.

Suddenly
I feel the wild green song
move in my blood again--
no, not as fresh now
but with age comes a richer shade.

Today unlike yesterday
I’ll sing along--
I will go out into the spring field.

No, I can’t gallop as I once did
but the confinement of slower steps
will give me the time needed
to feel and to sing a deeper song.

Searching for My Best Beliefs: poetry book
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© 2023, Michael R. Patton

Golden Growth

GOLDEN GROWTH

When the Inquisitor appeared
in a dream years ago...

I realized I was trying
to speed my growth
by stretching myself
on a torture rack

so I then began to use gentler tactics

and accepted the tedium
of gradual change.

A wise way, yes--but
by the time I'd finally
washed off enough dross
to shine a bit...

my youth was gone--
its golden possibilities lost:

in a dream, I saw
gold dust fall down
to disappear into the cracks
between worn floorboards.

I woke in grief
and remained in grief

until an old crone
(impatient with my self-pity)
turned my mind by asking:
does anything ever really die?

then opened the door
to a subterranean cache--
a garden flourishing
with spires of golden grain
and yellow orchids
dripping honey from the lip.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
searching for my best beliefs: poetry ebook