July 28
Clap
I know how to put my hands together, but I am unable to
clap. It’s not that my palms can’t locate
each other; it’s that I cannot find the beat.
I sing; lilting rhythms rolling from my tongue. I keep time and drum the tattoo of jingle dress
dance songs, but when my hand comes against its mate something is off. Faltering nuance plays havoc with my
exuberant desire. I want to join the
crowd in syncopated applause, yet my brain drops out. Because the gap is too far to leap I must
walk around to the other side and by then I’ve lost the moment, the world has
moved on without me. I used to think I
needed to run my routine a little faster, but now I realize I need to learn to
leap the gap and trust the beat to find me.
Engender your actions with optimism
*
PRESTO
Just because I own pointy boots
Doesn’t mean I can corral the cows.
I have in my possession many things
Of subtle intent but they can’t transform me.
The wings from Halloween don’t make me an angel.
The Big Book on the shelf won’t sober me up.
Nothing holds the magic to change me.
I can only change with help.
Action, action and more action
Is the magician’s slide of hand.
It slides my hand from glass to grace
I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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