HOME TO HOPE
Shadows of doubt fall across my face on dark days and I have trouble finding my way home to hope. Reliance on sunshine fails me come dusk. Twinkling stars bare their souls to little avail. I am lost. Absurdity and obsession plague me for time and attention. I wander deeper into a dismal wood. How can I chop my way free? Dejection dulls my senses; I am blind to solemn assurance. I must reevaluate the shimmering enthusiasm from the night sky. Skepticism passes like storm clouds, I may feel the rain for a time; necessity reigns on both sides of every street but still I can crawl into my bed. Morning will come and I will fear less the coming night.
Hop right after you put your foot down and you can skip most of your problems.
After long years I have made my own acquaintance,
friendship is on a far distant shore.
I know who I am and can recognize myself
on the street or in a crowded room.
I have a legitimate sense of wariness
of the afore mentioned persona,
nothing too nasty, just a discomfort.
She is not someone I would bring home,
maybe not even share a meal with
but I can stand her, minus intimacy,
minus any deep empathy.
I feel an awkwardness in acknowledging her,
strange as this might sound.
She is no one to be ashamed of,
not a truly bad actor
Yet the reports say she doesn’t live up to her potential
and I have it on personal authority
that she actually surpasses it on most days
and keeps this a closely held confidence.
And there it is, I know her secrets
but I don’t keep her.
This is what makes me strange and her stranger.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault