“Why do you practice death like it were a skill? Do you fear you lack ability? Or, because it’s your goal, have you made it your hobby?”
Beleaguered by the questions of my sponsor I search quickly for some believable response. “I confused calm with death and thought I was practicing the former…..Death came for a holiday, how could I refuse it?…..It’s a test drive, if I like it I can keep it.” My sponsor doesn’t think I’m funny.
“Check your motives, wants and desires. Make sure death is what you really want, that it’s not just your fallback position because you fear life. Don’t get me wrong, I hope death is a good thing, but why try to chew tomorrow’s food when your plate is full of today?
The Hurt carry on the tradition,
would never think to give it up,
don’t even know there is that option,
strap on their weapons without a second thought.
How can there be a second thought
when there never was a first.
Hurt is a reflex
and it moves its way through the world
like dominoes tumbling;
Everything’s knocked down
before you ever saw it standing.
So, what’s the use anyway?
So, I fall down and in that action push you forward
and we are all together in the mud.
But it is so hard to recognize anyone in the mud,
including myself and especially you.
If I hurt you that makes it hard for me to see
anything about you except my wish for your departure,
Which I subconsciously hope will take away the guilt
I can’t afford to feel.
If I make it out of the mud I can’t afford anything,
but if I don’t pay up I’ll be in new mud soon,
So I must break tradition
and the first step toward that is seeing it
and the second is calling it by its name.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault