When I’m Gone
When I’m gone I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best
But more likely will be the lament; she didn’t live up to her potential.
When I’m gone I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices
But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.
When I’m gone I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms
But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes, then the circular file.
When I’m gone I would like my dreams to fly to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge
But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.
Ask your own questions
When the postcard is hung upside down
The plane flies away on its back.
I know one of those irregular days
With the disposition of a bee stung mule
Is on its way to visit me.
I have found diplomacy goes a long way
And when it runs out, humor is the best fall back.
Nothing mean or sophomoric but the ability to laugh
Is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day.
When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days
I mortgage strength from tomorrow
And right the picture—then fly right.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault