THE WALL OF PLEASANT
How quickly I am protected by a sweet smile. A disarming countenance and a gentle phrase save my skin and psyche. No longer do I defend my reputation as a wit or critic. I let it all flow by. The simpler I appear the more effective the facade. The energy I conserve not fighting losing battles is well spent in the company of like-minded sober friends in the pursuit of sober lives. I stay out of the fray and behind this partition. Its insides are posted with announcements proclaiming my opinion and the lunacy of the person on the other side. The reading of these notices does not persuade me to dismantle the enclosure but encourages me to keep it sound. Many years of shelter behind this now vine covered fortification allow restraint of my words, spoken and written, to safeguard my sanity. When I am gifted with comment, I am spared the desire for credit. Boundaries are a blessing and living within them a saving grace.
Reconnect to hope.
We have a long standing family tradition
of viewing miracles as tragedy;
this custom has afforded us many
a fine escape from the unknown.
Most things in life are bad; people, places, things,
this belief is protective though useless.
Ultimately I feel this belief is not what colors
the dynastic impression of the miraculous,
but the apprehension is due to the limited nature of the thing.
I come from a line of dissatisfaction;
miracles are provided when what is desired is panacea.
If everything is not imperially resolved
then it is all for naught
Because the same psyche
which cannot begin a process
without a guaranteed outcome
can’t pickup the slack after a triumphant start.
Give it all to me tied with a bow,
I will begin the critique from there
though I will accept, offer me a beginning
fraught with uncertainty and I will decline.
A secure entrenchment is preferred to inexact risk.
I will die with my boots on,
but I mustn’t leave the house.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault