March16
ANGLE OF RETURN
As in a hall of mirrors, it is sometimes hard to tell if I
am moving forward in my recovery.
Likewise, as promises are fulfilled, their obtuse arrival is a
quandary. The juxtaposition of acute
homecoming of former faculties is also startling. How the light finds and reflects itself from
sober face to sober face, from open heart to open mind, is the spectral of hope
to me. My soul seeks me day after day
though I left it so far behind. It
brings to me the person of God’s intent and my new acquaintance. Patience, never my virtue, finds me stacked
with packages delivered in piles so high I can’t keep up with opening
them. Never in my life have I known less
about my future or felt more assured.
Earn your own
respect.
*
Suit up, Show up
I stand naked, paralyzed,
unable to reach my intended destination
or any destination at all.
Goose flesh is no real motivation
and I am reluctant to use the prod
having only produced resistance
and reversals with past applications of this weapon.
Entreatment might work
if only I could find the right one;
then again anything might work if it were a fit.
Covering my all-together is an action;
taken judiciously it sometimes is all the arrival I can
manage,
taken disingenuously it precludes the chance
for any further forward motion
and may create setback or retreat.
I should not attempt to hide fear with wardrobe
though I can try to warm it.
Façade building is best done with a bottle in tow
reality is best faced with a sponsor by my side.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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