FISH OF CHAOS
Out of chaos come very tiny fish, well, maybe not fish but a very swimmy feeling. How can I go around with my feet off the ground, my mind racing on a squirrel cage? Breathing helps, breathing is someplace to start. Once I get breathing regularly, I can gingerly probe with one foot for a place to stand. The chaos may race around and past my legs like so many eels on a summer’s evening, but with time and practice I can step from this current as well. Out of chaos come very tiny fish, but I can come out, too.
Wring out every drop from your books.
It isn’t until I listen long to the Northside poet
that I realize there is such a thing as a Chicago accent.
I hear it as I never have before.
I don’t hear it in my beloved Rodger,
hear only the hope he brings to share.
As I get ready to walk to the podium
I wish that no one hears the Jersey in my voice
only the experience I bring to share.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault