Go where it’s warm
The intangible rightness of cohesion is difficult to explain. What is it that makes a group congregating into a congregation? What makes a rag tag tousle into a home group? It is the thing I yearn for, but dare not chase. I know this too makes a grub into a butterfly, yet private transformation seems necessary, where the change of masses is gratuitous. A thousand geese fly overhead; arrows of individual miracles, pointing the way to the meaning of it all.
Score your rhythm so you can reflect the music of your soul
What about the dreamer?
What about her, responds my sponsor.
You ask me about her like I was the one
Who pushed her off the cliff.
Are you saying I pushed her,
I questioned my sponsor.
Yes, that is just what I am saying.
Do you need me to sing it?
You wanted the dreamer to fly off,
To safety and happiness
And wanted her to take you with her.
In an attempt to grab hold of her ankles
And propel her to heaven
You threw her off the precipice.
Now she is broken and bleeding
Far from your sight
Your dreamer is damaged
And you ask about her?
Do you want to know what you did
And how to remedy it
Or were you looking to duck responsibility?
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault