What Is A Sheep To Do?
Things are bad out there. I see the trouble as I circle within the flock. Many of us whisper to each other as we pass. How can I create lasting change? Is there something helpful that will not separate me from my precious life, something that will not make me prey to the vultures before I even realize that I’m dead? How can I live and strive while the wolves hold the hilltops? Is the choice merely, one death or the other? Is there an as yet unseen path? Can I find it while maintaining my place in this congregation? What is a sheep to do?
Topple the toys from their bins and play
Tea or Sympathy
Tears pouring into the teacup growing cold on the table create a sea of emotions uncharted. If I can not offer sympathy to the contents, the soulless heel that I am, how then do I expect to have a future? If I will tender only meager tolerance toward the spindled thing valiantly trying to beat within me why do I even show my face to the mirror? If shoulders are cold and turned inward then I will collapse into the inexpressive, dismal thing that has been misshapen through misuse and I might as well drink the chilly tea for that’s all the comfort I’ll get. I must do better by myself in order to brew a better world.
Smooth one hand with the other.
Green and black
Pinwheels of rolled grass
Speed by me on a flat bed.
Headed for home
That is how it is for me.
I grew up in a place of impermanence
A place clearly not my destination
Uprooted and prepared for relocation I am in transition.
My future surroundings unknown
Will be a perfect fit.
I have been anticipated
Grown for a purpose of which I am uninformed.
I have done my part, I am ready to lay down my roots
And become a lawn of seamless expanse
Somewhere my Higher Power is grading a hill
Smoothing the way.
I am ready to take my place
In the landscape
Of sober living and right thinking.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault