April 9
Up and Down: Round and Round
Like the wheel on my spinning wheel I pump up and down on
the treadle and the wheel spins round and round, the roving twists in my hand
and yarn is made. Really all I do is tap
my foot and gently hold on, pulling occasionally. It is a small part I play in
this production at least it feels small almost unnecessary, but with a clear
mind I see that without me it doesn’t get done.
I am essential yet still just a foot-tapper and hanger-on neither of
these is prestigious yet the whole fabric depends on my mundane actions. I take great comfort knowing that all over
there are foot-tappers and hangers-on keeping safe this way of life, sometimes
keeping it safe just through sheer repetition. And if you ask, “Is that Unity
or Recovery or Service?” All I can say
is “Yes it is.”
Powder your bottom line
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CLAW MARKS
There is a brackish
River
Whose current changes
directions twice a day
Its bed is well
washed on every side.
It begs the question-
Which way is down
hill?
There are times I
struggle up hill in both directions
There are times I
slip from every slope
What is up is often
down
Judgment of
topography requires distance
Scaling the surface
takes tenacity
I plan on leaving my
mark as I go
Life's residue
staining my finger tips.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way
to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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