The Max Factor
I apply foundation and rouge to make up the difference between reality and expectation. My composition is unexamined by onlookers; appearance is the subliminal standard bearer. My brave face is plaster cast as an estimation and a singularity. Powder gives and takes power; builds a glass ceiling then a glass floor. What I owe my mind is more than what I allow its representation to be. I am made up to a spot on the wall from which I can not move, all because I wanted to put my best face forward.
Cuddle up to curiosity
LIFE AS AN ELM
I stand tall
My bark sloughing elongated rectangles
Great bunions of wood protruding
Giant bubbles of tight grain grown in reactionary curls.
These tumors born of abuse and endured in maturation
Are harvested in recovery
The burden of them severed from me
By the sharp teeth of truth.
Sectioning these masses
For purposes of inventory
Allows the twisted and deformed wood
To become dry and constructive.
I inlay the contorted sheets of history
Into the panels of the doors AA built for me.
The doors built to exit hell
Which gave me access to the world beyond.
I stand in the woods
Reaching the sky
Sinking deeply in the underlying spring
Surrounded by the joys of reality.
Things unseen in my pain
Blister covered life of addiction
Life was a forest of one.
The wind hit me
The snow fell on me
Affected only me.
Today, lightened by the loss
Of my inappropriate growth
I grow together with my sponsor,
My group and the We.
I can accept shade and shelter
Also offer it.
The bugs and parasites meet
With the resistance of communal health.
Has no harbor,
Not in my bark,
Not in my heart.
Strips me of my disabilities
And makes me strong in camaraderie
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault