The bells are ringing but no one sings. There are no peals of laughter and that’s just fine, for pleasure is not the only response to sound. Shock and distain are other options, too. I have what I want in relationship to the buzz in my ear, equal opportunity attitude, pro and con. Some songs bring joy when they end. I have to lower my expectation of pleasure and value my distaste for tinkling sounds or any other preordained sweetness.
See through your problems.
Today I tore down the isolation booth.
I didn’t live in there exactly;
sometimes I stuffed God in there
and went out for a ride.
I left that shack stand for far, too long;
a testimony to ill conceived,
ham-handed, control freaks everywhere.
I said all I wanted was some peace,
but a vacuum is not tranquility
and escape won’t substitute either.
Since the live studio audience has gone home
and the house lights are dimmed,
I feel pretty foolish for playing
round after round on my own.
This game was never any fun
and the sponsors were death merchants and scavengers
whose interest lay in destruction and nothing else.
I must not cast aspersions, I didn’t care
that the contest was merely an upright pit
with a lethal pendulum, I used it as a hideout and a lair,
A place whose walls
I could keep between me and my Higher Power
and an activity I could depend on
to keep me free from living a life.
It all came to the ground today;
I walk over the splinters and shards,
I know there has to be a better game
and I’m ready to play.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault