The Sculptor

April 4

THE SCULPTOR

I'm stuck in a block; my sponsor chips away at me. I struggle to hold still. With surgical precision, she cuts through the debris with which I have surrounded myself. After my sponsor frees my hand and arm, she places a hammer in my open fingers. When the other arm and hand are rescued, she places a chisel in that hand. This is how, before my head showed above the surface, I began to help in my own restoration. I am the sculptor the program has made me. Recovery has taught me I can be anything if I keep chipping away at the things that hold me hostage. As time travels on, I am a new shape with each turn through the steps and have an ever-lustrous finish with every application of the traditions.

Everything has its own intelligence and you do, too.

*

Please Sir

Gratitude is a thing which collects and solidifies,

it’s pink and I can walk around on it.

Some days it is a broad highway

and other times a winding spindling track.

Ever present if I am mindful

gratitude roots out pests and pestilence

while planting a garden beyond my dreams.

Gratitude is like handholding

it warms and strengthens me, k

keeps me connected to real life

and reassures me that I am not alone.

Many days I find a way to make a face and pout,

plundering the rich rewards of sobriety

for the thin gruel of discontent,

Poke me with a stick on these days

and remind me who I am,

for I am never Oliver even if I feel a little twist.