Sweat

March 3

 

 

SWEAT

 

I turn the desk lamp into the eyes of God.  I put question after question to the construct of my childhood concept.  “Would you please explain?”  Or, “Exactly why did You do this, that, or the other thing?”  “Are You now or have You ever been a member of…?”  I put the pressure on; the beads of perspiration join, then trickle.  I have God in ‘the box.’  I will not relent.

“I don’t understand You,” I say disappointedly, as if speaking to a troubling adolescent.  “You have so much potential if only You would apply Yourself.”  The icon shakes Its head slowly and deliberately; I shake my head, too.  So much time has passed and I am no closer to embrace.

“You don’t understand Me,” says God to me.  Dawn breaks; I uncuff this mythic creature.

“You are not the one I am looking for.  You are free to go.”

 

 

 

New is neutral, not better or worse.

*

 

 

Stepping up

 

 

I look along the list of names,

look upon the sea of faces.

Are there any whose eyes I avoid?

 

I gaze across the landscape

are there any craters,

any pock marks, any divots.

 

I tick through my actions

those I’ve recently taken

checking for stubbles, glitches, snafus.

 

These combined facts and figures

create a portrait of my day;

I appraise the eyes, the hair, the teeth.

If I can smile at what I see

all is well if not I begin the repair.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

 

Slipstream

October 27

 

SLIPSTREAM

 

I look in the rearview mirror; I see the headliner and a river of road flowing out behind me.  Dual viewing is the kind gift of hindsight.  I can see my internal workings and the past laid bare.  The beauty and sadness can transfix me.  I will lose my way if I keep looking back.  I catch glimpses and move my eyes forward.  I can’t advance without a full vision so I remain grateful for the mirror.  Awareness and cognition, the brakes and gas, I have the full package; I just have to make sure to steer.

Tell a joke to a cat.

 

*

Picard

The little tin whistle I yearn to play

squeaks in my head

warning that I have no time to learn

and a tin whistle though slender is not easy.

 

I think if I had a magic wrinkler for time I might learn,

I remember characters that have, but I rethink this

and remember I don’t want to win the lottery again.

 

I am too good at too many things

and have no time to enjoy their full round pleasure.

I have no need for additional longing or extended guilt.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Abundance of Water

October 25

 

ABUNDANCE OF WATER

 

Waterfalls fail the catch basin and run off to make mud slide from the hills.  Power showers down, but the channels it uses are not always beneficial.  High tide with the push of tsunami wipes out the coast.  Water is the stuff of life, but God forbid it gets out of control, there is no living with it.  I cannot regulate the weather but today I have a plan.  I don’t have to stand out waiting to see how much will come down.  I may not have every contingency covered; I do have a backup for the worse than average season.  Yes, I did dig myself a French-drain, but I started by not living on the flood plain.

 

Travel in your own good company.

*

Basket Ball

 

 

 

Idiots out number poets, this is a fact,

though I do wonder why.

It cannot be an easy lot spending your days

in slow witted discharge;

 

I would think they might at least try putting pen to paper.

I think I would rather live in a world filled with bad poets

than drifting on this ship of fools,

 

The troubadours rise with imbeciles as their cover

and poems fall from favor.

I wonder how I could make verse a contagion,

how could I make it spread?

 

You may laugh at me, but think what some guy did

with a broken peach basket and a rubber ball.

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Reflections of You

October 21

 

REFLECTIONS OF YOU

When people meet me they listen and stare, then the familiar words tumble from their mouths, “there is something about you.”  I know it’s the reflection of every person I saw at the meeting last night, the sober voices that created them, also the mirror of years spent in rooms just the same.  I know this is what is seen in me.  The bright light shines on me and the prism of time fans the colors to my new acquaintance.  I thank my Higher Power for letting me be a spectral instrument and I am grateful to the fellowship for shining the light on and through me.

 

Recycle absolutes into planters.

*

Canine Comprehension

 

 

I wonder what it is that the dog knows.

True love, quantum physics,

the ratio of lift to thrust required to make the ball fly,

how food shared from my plate

is better than food from her bowl.

 

This begs the next question.

What do I really know; song lyrics, nursery rhymes,

old scores from old grudges?

 

What I hope I have learned;

is the space it takes to keep an open mind,

the willingness required to make a real change,

and the width, depth and breath of honest affection.

 

If I haven’t learned these things

I will put them at the top of my list of things to do.

Because I believe I can teach this old dog a few new tricks.

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Walking Joy Home

October 20

 

WALKING JOY HOME

 

 

I make sure to walk joy home not because I doubt her ability to find it alone, rather because it gives me extra time with her.  I used to fear joy, that I would be intoxicated by her presence and lose my well-hardened grasp on realism.  Now I see that without joy in my life there is no realism, that it was only cynicism masquerading in its place.  Joy is simple and unassuming.  I often confuse her with ecstasy and scoot away in shy terror.  Joy is nice to have around.  She is not just a party animal; sometimes I invite her over for a cup of tea.  When we are done I take the winding path to savor every step up to her door.

 

 

If you can’t lay down your burden move it from hand to hand.

*

 

Resilience

 

When I experience trauma or drama

my heart and soul return to the toddler state;

I feel the urge to stay up and push forward.

I resist help and rest.

 

I try to override animal need in favor of intellectual prowess.

Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on,

only managing to make my life  into a ceaseless fight.

 

My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out.

I need to recharge my batteries,

need to hit reset and restore my default settings.

 

It is hard for me to accept that I must lie down

in order to get up again.

Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance.

 

Resilience is a bouncing ball.

What I want to rise I must first throw down.

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Joy is not Enough

October 12

 

JOY IS NOT ENOUGH

 

 

I was driving around in my car, eating a meltingly ripe persimmon.  On the radio came a fiddle-playing band performing their rendition of In The White Room.  I was traveling with the three drafts of my first step, version one consisting of 690-some words and the final consisting of only four.  Joy is not enough.  That’s it.  The whole thing.  Today my life is unmanageable due to the fact, having a balanced life, feeling my wide range of feelings including joy, is not sufficient to eliminate the pain and damage of the past.  My horrific childhood has not healed, has not mended seamlessly.  I have joy today, every day at some point, in proportion to my sober choices.

I fail to realize the promise doesn’t say heal the past; it says I will not regret the past.  I don’t, at least not any of the choices I made.  Other peoples’ choices are not mine to regret, so I can’t do that for them.  I will not wish to shut the door on the past, and I don’t wish to.  I want it healed.  I may not get my wish.  Just because I am doing my part to heal the past doesn’t make anyone else do it.  I can’t strong-arm the perpetrators into recovery the way they strong-armed me into abuse.

 

Joy is not enough, but it’s a hell of a start.

 

 

 

Lend your assets; keep your defects home.

*

 

 

 

Matching

 

 

 

“Matching calamity for serenity,”

is a task requiring attentive diligence.

Each tragedy has its unique blast pattern

and necessitates a precisely cut cure.

 

Coverage is one concern and depth is another,

the weight of the healing atmosphere

must equal the corrosive depletion caused by ruin.

 

I have to make available the wound

in order to receive the remedy;

anytime I camouflage or barricade my injury

I have eliminated the opportunity for a corresponding solution.

 

Knowing this fact

and answering it with right action is the job of a lifetime,

but I cannot think of a more productive use of my time.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Deny One, Deny the Other

October 11

 

DENY ONE, DENY THE OTHER

 

 

If you want to deny the problem, by necessity you must deny the solution.  Resolving a problem whose existence is rejected creates a split in the crust of collusion.  Oftentimes, the convolution and reconvolution of addiction causes a bloated roiling mass that rolls through the streets of sanity.  How can a wedge be cut in a creature so dense?  How can I work on piecing together remedies when I am readily assured by fellow sufferers there is NO DIS-EASE?  Can I trust my personal depletions?  Can I employ faith to a resolution when faith is utilized to fortify the contagion I’m told doesn’t exist?  But if not faith, what?

 

 

Count out all the buttons in your box.

*

 

 

Alarm

 

 

I have lived life like one long fire drill.

Is there smoke?  Not always, but I fear flames.

The alarm in my head is with me always

and I walk from my life single file and silent.

 

I don’t move on, this is only a drill,

‘I don’t want to take drastic action, this will pass,’

is my constant thought,

though, I can not remember a time without the buzz.

 

I have stood outside my life so long

practicing in case of an emergency

that there is no life to protect.

 

I have been conscientious to the point

of being consumed by caution.

Balance requires risk.

I must be brave enough to have it all.

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

October 9

 

VIRGINIA CREEPER

 

In a clearing grows a vine; as seasons change the leaves turn pale.  This type of vine grows throughout the wood, but does it grow pale everywhere or only in the sunlit space?  I see the trembling of the lovely foliage and wonder the destiny of the flora.  Does growth have a will of its own?  Does it grow to the light or is it a must?  Can I turn my face even if Virginia Creeper cannot?  And if I can, should I, just to prove a point?

 

Keep a spare heart for your overflowing love.

 

*

 

The First We

 

Before powerlessness can be dealt with,

before unmanageability can be faced,

it is imperative that the “WE” is embraced.

 

It is the first and last job of sobriety.

Initially the human “we” is faced

and finally the I and Thee.

 

But the full spectrum of “we” is there to allow

the creation of possibilities in my life.

As the human body is 97% water

the recovering alcoholic is 97% “We”.

 

What I could never do on my own;

We do with ease.

On my own I might not be much

but together We are everything!

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Seam Allowance

October 3

 

SEAM ALLOWANCE

 

The space given and taken, the space used to bind us and sew us fast.

The permission for humanness and the need for seams to make us whole.  The narrow margin, a shoulder on which I lean, the slender strip a place of refuge.

Darts are snipped to hug the curves; I bend to fit to life.

Our nearness; being my own part and part of more.

Planning, and a pattern cut to order with allowances made for fraying and fragility, allow me to feel woven into a web of what is and still hope for more.  The unfinished garment is taking shape, easing and stretching.

And before my eyes, pins held between the teeth of God.

 

 

Keep strong words on a high shelf you have access to.

 

*

Have Faith

Strange and wonderful tragedy

takes you away from me

and I don’t know how it is that you return,

but you do and I thank God,

 

But I’m not sure it was God’s idea

that you went away or that you came back,

though, I am sure, He missed you every bit as much as I did.

 

I revolve the freshness of you in my mouth like candy;

I swirl, but don’t want to crack open.

Honeymoons are for people who live comprehendible lives;

we fly to each other and cling like raptors plummeting to the ground.

 

You leave your mark upon me I do the same for you;

we are none the worse for the wear.

I stand in the gush from the hydrant,

soaked in the pleasure, forgoing the safety.

 

The world may burn down again tomorrow,

I remember that it has before, but I am wiser for the singeing

and weathered with soot in my eyes and charcoal piled roundabout my legs,

yet I’m still standing and you are back from the dead

and I think of you as Lazarus.

 

And now we will live the comedy

for life is what lay ahead,

we took the hit of death before its time

and so must be off the hook for the rest.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Lineage

September 28

 

LINEAGE

 

People stand in the queue and I stare, lost in contemplation and compliance.  I weigh the conflicts and complications.  Is this the method to clear identification?  I think I am better known for the lines I’ve crossed, the times I press between warm souls and force myself to the area beyond.  How can I wait my turn for generational stew when the fruit trees bear life for those who break free from ruts and rumbles to bite deeply the flesh of the future?  I can’t stand here though I love so many in this line, I cannot love the line itself.  I must step through, breathe, stretch my legs and mind, take leave of grids and locks, to live a lonelier but healthier life, all caused by a change in direction.

 

Enjoy change like flowers before the fruit.

 

*

 

Kicks

 

 

New balance is more than a brand of sneakers.

New balance is a joyful revelation

made possible through constant vigilance.

 

I am tap dancing into a vision,

no more soft shoed wishfulness.

I can lift my feet knowing I can keep my up right posture;

my musculature robust from climbing

the steps and accepting direction.

 

This bright tempo delights me;

I feel stretched, subtle, able-bodied.

Life off the balance beam offers me the world

in which to embrace my equilibrium.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

 

Pirouettes

September 27

 

PIROUETTES

I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go.  I am erect, proud of my self-possession.  I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity.  Sobriety has made a dancer out of me.  I sprint the stage and take my place.  I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography.  I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me.  I can let it all pass.  To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.

Let your work speak.

 

*

A Verse to the Wise

 

Encoding truth into poetry

makes reality survivable by giving readers

the opportunity to dig truth up like diamonds.

 

Throwing certainty in people’s faces like cold water

gives them a wakeup call but nothing to embrace.

The beauty of semaphore is the dance

that need not be understood by everyone who sees it.

 

Communication through device

leaves headroom and breathing space

while acceptance might be reached.

 

The current of a conversation

often leads me to face the facts,

but a tsunami of candor could drown me.

 

 

 

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life