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 to manage 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.
Sweetly kiss the past goodbye
At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape
Adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel
Built into the barrier where the line forms.
Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen.
When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized
Others had stood there and responded
To the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge
With fingernails—I was drawn to do the same.
I could not pull much up but each time I stand there
I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it
To the head of the line and be on my way.
Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away.
Over time we will accomplish this task
Unbidden, unknown to each other
Except through this common goal
Spontaneous willingness to do what can be done
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault