There is a strangeness to the dark. A velvety comfort when my paranoia is not alive with ice crystals and contempt. Cocoons of light create hives of life in an otherwise isolating phenomena. Pressing to my skin I can wear the night out as a jewel, a talisman for the hope I dare not share. Pixies and faeries inhabit dawn’s wee hours but the black blank stretch of space is home to things quite different. Unspeakable in their face I allow them to pass. Should I be carried off my return is eminent for half the seeds remain. Not wholly ransomed I live only part time in the sun. When the shadows fall there is the oddness of home I can neither embrace nor deny.
Load the scale in your favor.
THERE IS A TREE
There is a tree in the woods
I’ve seen it.
It was cut off from any visible source of
Strength or sustenance.
Carried aloft by surrounding trees
The splintered trunk dangles in the air
It makes no connection to the forest floor.
I know the feeling
I have been cut off too.
Violently separated from my God, as it were.
I probe the fractured stump at the bottom of my soul.
I explore the crevices
Seeking tendrils of hope.
My anxiety bonds to my frustrations
But faith eludes me.
I look down to the broken place
The view unrealized by me.
I have a vista of unimagined beauty
Provided to me by the growth of others.
I am eye to eye with my peers,
Held in their loving embrace.
I bloom and flower with them.
I endure the winters the same as they
And come spring am stronger for it.
I don’t know why I was damaged.
I don’t know why I was saved.
I am grateful it is done.
My sponsor says “It’s for our sobriety
And the pleasure of your company.”
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault