author’s note:

Another poem previously posted on another blog and recently revised:

“She gave her honor
  for the life of Skagway”

I found the above epitaph on a grave marker in Skagway, Alaska.  The woman in question was a madam active during the time of the Alaskan Gold Rush. 

I find sacrifice everywhere.
 

MY PAWS GROW STRONG

At my wake I heard
they said:  he could fly.
And he still can.

So those who knew me
knew me
as I knew myself.

But they always
parade our gods
when we die.

People feel the need to say
the truths that sound
like make-believe:
             to say
             she was creation, sun
             and moon–

she broke stones open

into bread; made her blood
into milk
for her children.

But even when a man curls up
in a cave until he becomes grubs
we should still celebrate
his pure skeleton–all leaves
are perfect–we must celebrate

how the snake water of his life
flowed around harsh rocks,
recognize how his few murmurs
flew lost in the forest breeze.

Those who never knew me
will read my obituary
and see the claw marks this cat
striped on the trees–

but will they know how
my paws grew strong?

They will they will
if they can look
into my pool
and see a mirror.

© 2008, Michael R. Patton
earnest audio