September 22
MEGAPHONE
The point of surviving, or maybe the goal after survival, is
enabling the voices of victims to be heard, starting with my own. I allow the surging waves of thought and
feeling to rush the gates and exit. I
try to bleed the bad with and without the use of leaches. So much is stumbled upon rather than sought
after. Some things hound me; I run down
the street with memory at my heels. I
must let the screams out or become them.
Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.
When I pour forth, I open the way for the rest. I have become the megaphone rather than the
cheerleader. It is good to be of use.
Pollinate ideas.
*
Peace Time
I have been to the wars and through the wars
and now sit on the stoop and wonder;
will I learn to live here in the world of everyday
after having had to spend so much time running for cover.
Each time I return to what I believe is my home
I sit and rock trying to pour my soul back inside
from my hipflask where it was held for safekeeping.
I try not to spill a drop
for it is worse than shed blood and harder to rebuild.
My soul has grown pale from confinement and lack of sun,
but it still exists and for that I pat my back
and suck on my Lifesaver;
I could have done worse, was unable to do better.
I console myself with the knowledge
I never started the conflict just learned to survive it.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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