Barnum, Bailey & Me
When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed I know I am in for a circus of a day and the tears of this clown will not change a thing. I ready myself for the tightrope walk and watch out for stray elephants. All the trained poodles in the world can’t make this into a day in the park. Painted ponies prance through their paces; I try to stick to my own act, meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.
Raffle off the surplus grit from your nitty gritty
The point of surviving
Or maybe the goal after survival
Is enabling the voices of victims to be heard
Starting with my own.
I allow the surging waves of thought and feelings
To rush the gates and exit
I try to bleed the bad
With and without the use of leaches.
So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after,
Some things hound me, I run down the street
With memory at my heels
I must let the screams out or become them.
Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.
When I pour forth I open the way for the rest
I have become the megaphone
Rather than the cheerleader
It is good to be of use.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault