YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CLOSE WINDOWS OR KEEP THEM OPEN
Not every open window offers a warm and welcome breeze. There are windows, which greet with artic blast and little else. Frosted cheeks and chapped lips, I face these frigid openings believing it is my lot to forge ahead in this bluster. Never did I think to shut the glass on this disagreeable weather. I am allowed to close windows but I didn’t know it. Every irksome thing that comes my way is not mine to face; many things will pass my way. This does not make them my responsibility. On the other hand, when spring blows honeysuckle through the air, it is a fine idea to prop the window open with a stick.
Wave gently good-bye to yesterday.
Why does an alcoholic leave the drink behind?
To go where it’s warm,
because drunkenness has become cold comfort,
because the climate has changed.
The wind resists the flight from the bottle
and the initiative to break the flow
is rotated among the flock.
Though each member of the band plays their part,
the one diverting the air just ahead of me
and the one just behind trumpeting
still hold the majority of my attention.
Flocking is my primary purpose
because survival is the intention of life,
demise the intent of my illness.
One more sober day is all I can ask,
it’s all I ever need,
it’s all that’s ever offered.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault