I form my query, fold my mind and mail it off to God with a stamp of approval from my sponsor. The questions sent are of no great interest but the responses are a spellbinding group. What is returned unopened is a wide array. The circuitous route taken by some is a charm of elucidation. I rub my fingertip over the intact seals and marvel at the travels of the wax. I mourn over the defunked gods and their public relations organizations. Slow is my resolve to pore over the replies. I get easily caught in lackings and shy from true contact. The equations embedded in my heart read the letters and sing the notes; these songs are just for me. I know them like my name. I turn the envelope and see how old the postmark is.
Remember your comfort needs a life of its own.
Reaction is a separation, a polarization;
it cuts you from me and God from we.
Response is a connection, an inclusion;
threading a line from you to me
and stitching God into our pockets.
I realize now that any positive connection
is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power
and can’t help but bring us closer.
Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness;
tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits.
I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work
and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault