DO YOU HEAR THAT SOUND?
I was running on empty and thought I was getting along that way but the smoke gave me away. My life had caught on fire and I burned it to the ground. I thought nothing had been apparent until it all lay in ashes. My sponsor said, “No, we all knew when your tank ran dry. The sucking sound could be heard for miles around.”
I asked her, if that were true, why I hadn’t heard it myself?
She said, she guessed I had my denial turned up too loud.
Box a gift to be set free at a later date.
Oh the Wells Fargo Wagon
Tying myself to one rail of a set of railroad tracks
gets me the same results as tying myself to the other.
Swapping one chemical fix for another
is like changing my socks in a rainstorm,
nothing dry will come of it.
Not seeing potential harm does not eliminate the harm.
Like a child with my hands pressed firmly over my eyes I yell,
“You can’t see me,” and run headlong into disaster.
Whether the train comes and makes a mess or not
I make my own soup Ducky
and must get on track by staying off the rails.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault