September 8
Helping Hands?
Why would you go to a rattler for a snakebite remedy? It feels so much like the hair of the dog
that bit me. The truth is I must, must
stay away from the quick answers. I am a
slow healer, but I do heal if I allow myself to do so unencumbered by poison or
untruth. When I am returning to the
vomit of my past it is incumbent upon me to search for the old lies and/or the
new ones, either or both will get me drunk; do I even need the help of a
prescription pad?
Never cage harbingers
*
SELF-SEEKING IS A DEBIT
Trying to get credit for everything I do
Has run me into debt in my anonymity account
Which draws directly from my humility bank.
I cannot expend my resources seeking
acknowledgement
And expect to retain much dignity or class.
How can I build within, while constantly grasping,
For nods and smiles from scenery and landscaping?
I want approval so much that I have lost my
center.
In an attempt to top the charts I forgot my song.
My ego writes checks that my soul can’t cover.
I run my potential into the red
Looking to get my name in black and white.
If I keep my name out of lights
I have a chance of building up my dignity.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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