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author’s note:
I guess I could have used women instead of men in the poem below.
But men are more believable.
WHEN THE MEN FIRST TRIED TO TALK
Word had gone out
across the land:
Men need to gather together
to express what they think and feel.
That type of deep cleansing release
will benefit the world’s mental health.
In response to the call
nine men in our small town
sat down in a circle
at the community center
to share what they felt.
But the first one to speak
began by stammering
then fell into mumbling
then started to cough and sputter
then suddenly
he clutched his chest
and fell over to the floor.
As the others leapt to his aid
a cry issued from the man’s flaccid lips—
a big bellow of pain that froze everyone in their place.
In the next instant, they all collapsed onto the floor—
struck down by a shock to the heart.
The men lay blank for a moment
then rose slowly, still stunned.
Apparently the painful lament
of first man’s unseen wound
had triggered a response
from the unseen wounds of the other men.
The nine then realized:
talking about feelings is dangerous.
You don’t know what you might be holding
down there in the dark.
Better to keep the pain in a box.
So only a few minutes into the first meeting
the group decided to disband.
And then tried to shut down
the desire they’d roused:
the desire—the drive—to express
what they thought and felt.
This conflict led those men into
all sorts of destructive behavior.
Of course we know about substance abuse
but there are many other activities
you can use to drown yourself:
one man simply sank
lower and lower
into his TV sofa chair
while resisting orders to resurface.
But like the rest
in time, he sought a prescription for his excesses.
And like the rest, he was then told:
You need to give voice to your deep wounds.
Yes, talking about feelings
can knock you down
but not talking about them
will not only knock you down
but keep you down.
So a few months later
the nine men sat down in a circle again.
Again, they’d work
to raise those shadowy feelings—
but now they’d go slowly, gently.
And pause for coffee and donuts.
Nonetheless
someone still passes out occasionally.
But once revived
they merely shake out their head
then straighten their shoulders
and continue talking about the wound.
Yes, we still dread the deep sting of truth
but these days
we bare our chests
and proclaim:
In order to feel better
I must first feel worse.
How Can I Live In This World?: poetry book
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2026, Michael R. Patton
author’s note:
As a boy, I liked that guy Moses.
I still like Moses. But not the guy—the symbol.
WORKING IN THE DESERT GARDEN
As a child I felt encouraged
when I heard how Moses
managed to exit Egypt.
Like him, I waited patiently
and when those waters finally parted
I split.
But then
as I explored the desert
I discovered
a part of the story
not mentioned in Exodus:
how the chains remain within us
long after our brave escape.
To those struggling
to find their way free
I’ll share what I know for sure:
you must loosen those chains slowly—
link by link by link by link.
When such tedious progress
burdens me down
I’ll lift myself by remembering
those victorious Moseses I’ve met—
they told me:
keep going
and you will eventually reach
the promise land of peace
but along the way
don’t forget to appreciate
the countless blessings
of this desert garden.
Survival: poetry ebook
dream steps blog
myth steps blog
you tube channel
© 2024, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: A “thank you” to M.S. Gutierrez for the spontaneous, energetic portrait above. RESURRECTION WAR When young I tried (for safety’s sake) to tamp my spirit down. But by nature, this spirit wants full experience and expression. So eventually, it rejected that death sentence and began to work against the smaller one I’d become that then battled back— fearing for its life. Strong for its size. So though I now fight for my spirit the crypt only opens bit by bit by bit. After all this time the struggle continues. Yes, I often tire of war but at least I’ve made real my childhood dream of being a warrior. I once believed this resurrection would end one day with a glorious triumphant bloom for all the world to see. But I realize now I must adjust my metaphor: as I try to create moments of peace in this endless war, bright buds keep popping out-- begging me to help them break open.
My War for Peace: poetry ebook—new and improved!
myth steps blog
picturing metaphor
you tube channel
begging for alms
© 2022, Michael R. Patton
author’s note: Johnny Cash once described himself as “a dove with claws”. BETWEEN THE TWO Disturbed by all the violence I saw I decided years ago I should be a dove but in response a hawk shot up from my shadow and shouted Don’t try to deny me! Fearing for the life of my dove I pressed that ornery bird back down and dared not ease my grip because the demon kept clawing and screaming-- demanding its freedom. Meanwhile, my dove suffered attack upon attack from predator after predator. Finally I realized the obvious: in order to survive as a dove I had to release that hawk. My dove needs the eyes of a hawk in order to protect itself from those who live by preying upon doves but my hawk needs the heart of a dove so it won’t see the world merely in terms of survival. Every day I work to achieve a balance between the two. And though I often falter I’m given solace by this thought: my dilemma is not mine alone but a problem borne by the whole human race.
dream steps blog
you tube channel
© 2022, Michael R. Patton
Michael Patton
sky rope (subterranean rappel) 