September 21
Mercy
The rearview holds the vision, the sad figure on the corner
as I drive away, all that is left to me are memories of G-d, the rest I ejected
and sped from as fast as I could. I cannot
face what is left when I make G-d homeless and unloved. Though living together was tough sometimes,
living alone is unbearable. Nothing
cooks right, cleans right, tastes right or smells right, even the moon won’t
rise right when I am strictly on my own.
And G-d wasn’t built for the streets, that corner is not someplace my
Higher Power fits in. We are meant to be
together and apart the world spins off its measure. Pitiful is what I am, so I swing around the
block, fling open the door and take pity on G-d and go home.
Make time for lullabies
*
BELLS
The bells are ringing but no one sings
There are no peals of laughter and that’s just
fine
For pleasure is not the only response to sound.
Shock and distain are other options, too.
I have what I want in relationship to the buzz in
my ear
Equal opportunity attitude, pro and con.
Some songs bring joy when they end.
I have to lower my expectation of pleasure
And value my distaste for tinkling sounds
Or any other preordained sweetness.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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