April
17
LUCK
Luck, transposed for gratitude, makes a mockery of grief and
loss. If you are lucky, what does that
make me? The forgotten? The orphan of fate? If what I lost and what it cost me is just a
lack of fortune, then why do right? What
is sea level? I may deserve all the
sweetness in the world but what explains the pain? I’ve heard that life’s not fair and laughed
at the underestimation of the claim. If
pain is the touchstone of growth and you are lucky and I’m hurt, does that make
you short? And what is the point of
growing tall?
Blow kisses to
stars which look familiar.
*
Ground Floor
Step 10 is the place where the doors slide open
and I discover I am out of the basement.
I have to pay close attention to where my feet are;
it is so easy to stumble here in the light of day.
Obvious limitations and universally accepted
interpretations
are pried from installation and put on trial.
Never is it acceptable to allow my alcoholic thinking
to make decisions for my sober life.
The road to my door must be kept clear
so I can get out to do my part
and so God can come
home to me.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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