The Max Factor

January 24

The Max Factor

I apply foundation and rouge to make up the difference between reality and expectation.  My composition is unexamined by onlookers; appearance is the subliminal standard bearer.  My brave face is plaster cast as an estimation and a singularity.  Powder gives and takes power; builds a glass ceiling then a glass floor.  What I owe my mind is more than what I allow its representation to be.  I am made up to a spot on the wall from which I can not move, all because I wanted to put my best face forward.

Cuddle up to curiosity

*

LIFE AS AN ELM

I stand tall
My bark sloughing elongated rectangles
Great bunions of wood protruding
Giant bubbles of tight grain grown in reactionary curls.

These tumors born of abuse and endured in maturation
Are harvested in recovery
The burden of them severed from me
By the sharp teeth of truth.

Sectioning these masses
For purposes of inventory
Allows the twisted and deformed wood
To become dry and constructive.


I inlay the contorted sheets of history
Into the panels of the doors AA built for me.
The doors built to exit hell
Which gave me access to the world beyond.

I stand in the woods
Reaching the sky
Sinking deeply in the underlying spring
Surrounded by the joys of reality.

Things unseen in my pain
Consumed
Blister covered life of addiction
Life was a forest of one.

The wind hit me
The snow fell on me
The drought
Affected only me.

Today, lightened by the loss
Of my inappropriate growth
I grow together with my sponsor,
My group and the We.

I can accept shade and shelter
Also offer it.
The bugs and parasites meet
With the resistance of communal health.


My disease
Has no harbor,
Not in my bark,
Not in my heart.

Today
My program
Strips me of my disabilities
And makes me strong in camaraderie

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/CRray19GOwA

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Lathhouse

January 22

Lathhouse

I want to face the sun.  I want to stand and the wind to blow.  I want the rain uninterrupted on my head.  I want to remain upright and unburnt, to prevail amidst it all.  Tender stalks and verdant leaves frustrate my anti-social streak.  I want to bear the worst without cover or assistance but here I am in the slanted shade of this dynasty.  As I grow so does the awareness that even when I am strong enough to leave this sheltered abode I will be relocated to a row where I am never alone.

Dream of a way to paddle a round boat.

*

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE

I awake happily at 5:30.
I will again see the show beyond compare
In stark contrast to the mornings
I filled with moping or sober angst,
Shades of the same dark color.
I shuck my covers
Bathing and dressing with purpose
And propel myself forward.
I hate to miss the first act.
Dawn
The tint of clouds dusky and sweet
I'm on my route
I start my open eyed prayer.
For all those living at the hands of an addict
Be with them---Please
For the addicts
Help us all to fail----Fast
I scan the horizon
Checking all the views
I reflect on the striking change,
Earth bound green and gold
Sky held pink, orange and blue.
The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind.
The sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me
Add to the pleasure of my drive.
I start my gratitude list.
Beginning with my sobriety
Each moment.
The people, The life,
The thinking, The feeling
And my ability
To share it all
With You

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/00eiIsaotPc

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Guest Flag

January 21

Guest Flag

The polite thing to do is fly the silly blue rectangle with its equally silly white diagonal stripe.   That would be the polite thing, for sure but that would peek my disease’s hold card.  If anyone knew that my illness was sailing my ship instead of me the effect would be ruined.  Or so says the canker that grips me and steers me to disaster.  Announcing this day-tripper as an unentitled accessory to whatever wrong I am about to commit might warn my friends or enlist my sponsor, but no I leave my colors fly and endanger the surrounding water.  For in truth my flag is just as fraudulent as this vessel and is only on loan to me as well.

Panoramic inventory shows the landscape in a better light.

*

THE MUSIC

I hear a tinkling noise and look around the room.
No, it's coming from my head.
It's the sound of the music of my life.

The bells, a horn or two
The strings,
Always the strings.

The sharp clear cry of the vixen
Calling from the hedgerow
The lonely voice of resolve.

The melody shifts
Tomorrow's tune warming up
In the wee hours of the night.


I don't try to part my lips
Replication is not a possibility
I am only just learning to move with the rhythm.

Keep the beat in my heart
And draw it down
For my toe to tap.

I cannot sing my song
I must let it live in me awhile longer.
I can't share things of which I haven't had my fill.

Giving too much
Too often
Makes the anthem run thin.

I have to be fully me, to be full voiced.
I need to stew in the juice
Of overflowing harmony.

The pounding of my feet on the steps unite the accord
Wild things and practiced plans
Put forward the waves of life on earth.

I follow
Placing my feet in well worn trends
The dance school reopened for sober living.

Passion plays and calls my response
For today, I pass
I leave the song inside

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/jTBmHZkNh3U

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Offset

January 13

Offset

I often feel out of round and unmatched to my counterparts.  Awkwardly I sit unable to strike a plausible pose.  I want my asymmetry to seem chic.  I feel a victim of universal ugliness and gracelessly plod through my days.  Luckily offset thinking, the partner of my offset soul, saves me.  I see that I am uniquely useful, like a screwdriver set at right angles for use where a straight one could not reach.  I am counterbalance and compensation.  I may be lateral but I am also collateral.  I am an embellisher, beneficial in unexpected ways and shouldn’t seek to be inline with the multitude.  I am the new growth, the spur to the future.

Romance the noodles in your soup

*

GRAVITY WORKS ALL THE TIME

Limits and boundaries are a drag
I hate feeling tied to the ground
I know I could fly
If not for unseen forces

I sense myself lightening, smoothing
I drop my burdens, I pick up speed
Fourth dimension
Hell, I'm proverbial vapor trails

I should explain, when I get moving this fast
I inevitably wind myself into a position
Where my head is up my nether regions
A place it does not belong

I have slowly grown to love my limits
No restraint holds me back
In reality, I am supported, rooted as it were
I am not hydroponic, I can live in the real world

I am me
Encouraged by the wind and the rain
I am not a hothouse flower
I am truly free

I can walk where I was born to walk
I forget life has not been found outside my little world
And when it is
I am still better off being me

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/GX2RHrKvmT0

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Hand Me Down Pain

January 6

Hand Me Down Pain

You have sent a cold thing into my heart it causes my feet to move me away from you.  It need not be spoken of this is a thing of ice and lead.  Words are no help here, action is the only cure.  Eternity can be spent with a soul bisected by slivers.  Stepping the willing way to joy and freedom seems so unlikely from this frosty local.  Make my mind up I must.  Close my eyes and move forward.  I will leave your pain behind me I hope not to have to leave you.

Kiss tiny pebbles and roll them away

~

HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES

I cannot get my mind wrapped around the places I find help.
I struggle with believing I have been helped.
I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance.
I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen.
I realize now I was injured by the same tiny things.
When I was misaligned with my Higher Power
The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness
It makes my whole day.
The air hanging around just in case I need it,
Which I often do.
The people who live with me, a mean feat.
The people who work with me.
Those who exist here with me keep my ship on course,
How sweet of them to do mostly right everyday of their lives,
What a help that is.
The whole ecosystem and all the weather
What would I do without it?
But this is on a good day,
On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes and scorching my skin,
The air is too still, or well, the wind is always a problem.
And people, people are an endless plight,
People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me,
Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed.
Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud,
Everyday, all day, lurking.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR A SPONSOR AND A TENTH STEP

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/475YWS01jBM

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

One Singular Crowd

January 4

One Singular Crowd

Isolation among the isolators is replete with metaphor and theme.  Expectation blithers loudly but is drown by the palpable inevitability of the outcome. I pirouette in a room filled with dancers but we do not touch, we just spin near one another full view but little contact.  Yet I hear my heart beating in my ear and know that I am alive.  The flush of neighboring cheeks attests to duplicate conditions there.  We are moving together sometimes in harmony but other times in antipathy, dependant all the same.  We are the army of independent meanings.  Individual cases sharing one slender goal but that’s all that we need.

If you can’t find the grape try some jelly.

~

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there's a boat stuck between two trees
In the middle of a horse pasture
Next to a riverbed so dry it's filled with grass.
I think the boat is me.

I feel for the boat every time I see it.
Turned on edge, waiting for a river which doesn't exist anymore
And may never exist again
Placed on edge for protection, not comfort.

Although having my bottom rot out
Well, let's just say, might be more uncomfortable
What good will I be even if the river runs again
Since I'm fenced in?

If my Higher Power has a plan
If it includes a river and a fence
If I'm in this plan, me, the row boat
I just don't see it.

Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life
Truth is, I don't want to face the fact, I might float away
Even though I'm supported by two big trees
Even though there is a tall fence around me.

Completely in spite of the fact
THERE IS NO WATER
My Higher Power loves me.
I AM THE BOAT

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/BXqTSzIuod4

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Goose

December 15

GOOSE

I round this corner nearly every day.  There in the field stands a flock of problems pecking the ground and flapping their wings.  Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking is undistinguishable from yesterday.  I ponder and squint; are these the same or yet another gaggle making their way along a migratory path?  Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field but never sheltering in the yard.  I must leave my hands off, knowing these are not mine.  The feathers fly and I gather the strays acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this.  Awkwardly I face the truth, no matter how much of a perplexity this is to me or to others, it is only geese.

Run because you want to and the starter’s whistle won’t bother you.

*

Crazy Time

Picking the right time to be crazy

seems to be the key to getting away with it.

Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.

What crazy is, changes from place to place,

which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.

The surrounding company and barometric pressure,

play parts and put on airs.

Lighting, lighting must also be involved,

I assure you I don’t know how

and can’t calculate the Ohms,

but I flip the switches in case it helps.

I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.

I wish you well on your attempt,

for crazy is a kindred club,

I would hate for you to feel inept.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/hbmrf8CaJnE

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Nuzzle's Offering

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING

Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power.  These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean.  I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could.  I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no.  Foliage and foes are mine to fight.  The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.

Talk to things other than people.

*

Triumph

God and I are experience junkies;

part of why I am here is so God can take me for a ride,

but also for the treat of God tucking into the sidecar

and letting me take us out for a spin.

I am God’s audience and God is mine;

though we are not peers we are comrades.

Life is a serious business I am sure and

profit and loss are always there to be considered.

I can barely describe to you

how much being in love with my creator is a joy,

but even better is being the apple of my creator’s eye.

Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7X9dWsE86k&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Leaves in a Pile

October 30

LEAVES IN A PILE

As a great pile of dry leaves, lay the problem.  Running through it to show my disrespect accomplishes nothing but to scatter my dilemma and widen the area of distress.  Covering and composting only allows the burden to indwell, leaching into that which feeds my soul.  Burning puts it in the air I breathe.  There is no galaxy far off enough to keep its reflection from my face.  Attack, flight, banishment?  No!  Insulation, conversion, contortion?  No!  I pursue none of these; I can not control things exterior.  I can not feed my power, light and life into the pile.  I have only one goal: not to become the problem.  Not to dry or dehydrate.  Not to fall from my hope and collect in the road.  My goal is to hold fast to hope and serve as conduit and companion to a life bigger than mine alone.

Practice little words like ‘oh’, and ‘hum’

*

Entrenched

I have dug myself a trench

and invited my friends and family.

Truth is, I drug many and tricked others

and there they are in the trench

I have so recently climbed out of.

It is a nasty place and I feel horribly responsible,

but here is the sacred truth;

I can’t climb down there again,

not even on a rescue mission.

I am obligated to help them, this is for sure,

but the fact still remains that it is not safe

to get into the water with a drowning person,

even if I am the one who caused the drowning.

If I am to be of any help at all I must get my footing

and keep it safely on the bank

and only then might I be able to throw down a rope

or lend a hand to anyone, especially those I love.

I pray for the sturdy stance of helpful strangers

and try my best to cause no further harm,

more than that will have to wait

until my cleats are soundly lodged into the earth

and my head is squarely upon my shoulders,

for headlong and mud covered I am no help.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Pirouettes

September 27

PIROUETTES

I turn and spin; the world flashes as I go.  I am erect, proud of my self-possession.  I can stand the forces of vector rotation, public opinion and gravity.  Sobriety has made a dancer out of me.  I sprint the stage and take my place.  I know the moves and trust, as best I can, the choreographer and the choreography.  I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve, the blur of existence spreads out before me.  I can let it all pass.  To spot myself and keep my upright posture, the only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view is the line of sight from my sponsor’s eyes to mine.

Let your work speak.

*

A Verse to the Wise

Encoding truth into poetry

makes reality survivable by giving readers

the opportunity to dig truth up like diamonds.

Throwing certainty in people’s faces like cold water

gives them a wakeup call but nothing to embrace.

The beauty of semaphore is the dance

that need not be understood by everyone who sees it.

Communication through device

leaves headroom and breathing space

while acceptance might be reached.

The current of a conversation

often leads me to face the facts,

but a tsunami of candor could drown me.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Will You Get to the Other Side

September 8

WILL YOU GET TO THE OTHER SIDE?

Chickens stand together on the edge of the road pecking and scratching; people make fun.  People tell jokes but it’s not so funny when we are the ones playing on the tracks.  We forget that all the excuses about longing for excitement and not wanting to be cut off from the world sound like so much cackling to the ears of people who value their lives.  Life in the pasture or the backyard is fulfilling if you want it.  That kind of life is no adrenaline rush, but then again isn’t adrenaline just another drug?

Tell the truth as if it were the weather.

*

Helping Hands?

Why would you go to a rattler for a snakebite remedy?

It feels so much like the hair of the dog that bit me.

The truth is I must, must stay away from the quick answers.

I am a slow healer, but I do heal if I allow myself to do so

unencumbered by poison or untruth.

When I am returning to the vomit of my past

it is incumbent upon me to search for the old lies

and/or the new ones, either or both will get me drunk;

do I even need the help of a prescription pad?

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Don't Be

August 18

DON’T BE

Don’t be stupid.

Don’t be crazy.

Don’t be anything out of the ordinary.

Don’t be angry.

Don’t be hateful.

Just don’t be that way.

Don’t be sad.

Don’t be mopey.

Smile for the camera.

And pretend for everyone.

I wondered often why I felt like dying and it took me years to understand why.

Don’t be equals death.

Don’t feel.

Don’t cry.

Don’t love.

Life is about action, presence and content.  You’re wrong if you break the rules and dead if you keep them.  So, please be you and don’t be them.  Look back when you have to but step out of the grave.

Learn followership too.

*

Single Serving Sterling

When the menu of life feels vast

I must focus on my teaspoon;

a simple tool that fits well in my hand,

whose use I well understand.

The possibilities conceived

when I ponder the intangibles

conspire to suck me down the rabbit-hole

where all that’s left to me is a drug.

When I come back to stir my tea

and lick the spoon clean

the world revolves around me

and without need of my completed unified theory.

Need looms, loss stacks,

salvation keeps a steady distance,

my only hope is to drink my tea,

I shan’t even sharpen my spoon;

I can and need to stay out of my fear built prison

and off the streets of hell.

My task is at hand and the size of the scoop

is a reminder to take all of life in small doses.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

In the Prairie

August 17

IN THE PRAIRIE

In the prairie, there are small fenced cemeteries, family plots.  The flat expanse of land opens to the eye; hand carved monuments stand in testimony to love and service.  In these places grow the wild flowers… bluebells, paintbrush, lupines, and all manner of reedy grasses… these places cordoned off from mechanization and  Agra-business.  Held in trust are the bones of loved ones and the soul of nature.  Deep inside me is a place like this.  The place I have buried my young---the little ones who died of shame, neglect, and hurt.  And I must return, not to exhume the dead, but to pay tribute.  To return with honor and love, harvest the daisies and buttercups, grow them in the garden of my heart.  I can tend the flowers that spring from destruction.  I can mingle them with the growth of my sober life; restore my prairie to a splendor it has never known.  I can enjoy the bounty of saving the seeds worth saving, and planting my Higher Power’s will for me. 

Make a list of decoys.

*

Endlessly Moving Maps

I try to survive by memorizing the chaos.

I do well up to five layers deep

and then lose it, as the details become too great.

I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns

in a storm while at the same time treading water.

I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years.

Now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass.

I must touch down my tender toes

and learn to walk this twisting path

and keep a pace with this spinning world.

Everything moves and I am overwhelmed.

I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature;

have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll,

one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Hawaiian Graffiti

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold.  Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom.  The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo.  What message would I care to share?  What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road?  Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out?  A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”

Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,

yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.

I look into the well of my despair

then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need

lest the need be filled.

I need to believe that a power will heal me,

but if I am provided with the force of life,

I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list

of my emotional woes and mental shortages.

This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems

and then realize, that like the moon,

who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,

solutions are installed in heaven and earth

if I know what the problem is.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Quick ----Sand!!!

July 23

QUICK------SAND!!!

“Don’t ask me how deep the quicksand is,” said my sponsor, “it’s your job to get out of it, not to quantify it.”

“I’m not sure how to get out.  Will you come and get me?” I ask her.

“No, Darling.  If I get in we will both be down for the count.  The only chance we have for me to help you is if I stay out of the morass with my feet planted firmly on solid ground.”

“What if you can’t get me out?” I cry.

“I will go get more help.”

“What if all of AA can’t get me out?”

“Angel, my hope is, that if there was no way out, you wouldn’t even know you were stuck.”

Limit your limits.

*

Before Ophelia

Young women drown themselves before Shakespeare

immortalized, memorialized Ophelia.

But having a poster child changes us.

Cautionary tale or rallying cry,

Ophelia is a hand to hold on dark cold days

when the light is hard to find

and everything seems bent toward destruction.

Not that I think she solved anything

with her despondent act

just that she stands in the familiar frame

I find myself in from time to time.

When I imagine I’ve invented the wheel

it makes it harder to step down and walk.

Ophelia’s fate makes it easier to get off depression’s bus

and find my way back home.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Water Babies

June 24

WATER BABIES

Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions.  Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink the river of their wisdom streams to my feeble mind.  The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles as the waves crash soundlessly above.  My head fills; I must surface but beg not to lose my connection when I break the tension of top-side sobriety; I turn these angels to screened-off faithfuls.  I owe all I have to these aquatic infants.  Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of swimming heroines and their embryonic grave.

Read a poem to a plant.

*

Living as a Megaphone

He whispers in my ear,

I part my lips and let it all run out.

Vacant tube of a thing,

his words pour through me

nothing to stem the flow,

He hides behind me, the bully that he is.

I stand with rings painted bright concentric, bold.

I am nothing;

 I know it

and don’t need him to tell me,

My inactions speak louder than his words.

He is not the one who bore right through my core;

he is just the little worm who is living there secure.

I will have to purge him out to be his megaphone no more.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

All Better Now

May 17

ALL BETTER NOW

Mother kissed the booboo and I wait for the admonition to take effect.  Waiting, I count the problems like telephone poles on a long journey.  What will it be like, the world all better?  The anticipation nearly breaks me for a while until waiting turns to disbelief.  A chill fills the space and 'all better' becomes the cry.  My sponsor calls for moderation and lowering my expectation.  The child’s ears ring with the promise to be fulfilled.  She can not give herself over to a world where a Band-Aid is not a cure-all but only a cover for the slow work of internal healing, scars and all.  Sheer survival is not sufficient for the screaming toddler; heartbreak from injustice calls for more than endurance.  But, alas, a kiss is all we have.

Time pulls the tide and the tide pulls you; let it.

*

Who Rang?

Examine the instillation of your buttons

as a process of discovery for disabling them.

Pay attention to the wiring but also to the hardware.

Sometimes the advertising is the thing

which keeps alive something better off put to rest.

Many things are rooted in other pots

and have a lifeline from outside of the current host.

All the connections and housing should be explored

as well as what work the mechanism does once pressed.

Is there a gong, tinkling bells?

Does it release the wolves from their den or tiger from his lair?

Information is a tool which never fails to help me

in disassembling the traps and their triggers

I must not shy from the gathering.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Service and Sacrifice

April 27

SERVICE AND SACRIFICE

The difference between life and death in my recovery is the equal difference between service and sacrifice.  If I offer you what is in my hand, fine.  If I also give you my fingertips, I am lost.  Service lightens the load in my heart; sacrifice removes my tools for living.  When I go into debt for your existence, the cheer and optimism is sucked from my awareness.  My eyes go dead and soon I follow.  The cingulotomy of obligation crucifies my future and murders true hope and love.  Service feeds my heart and yours.  Renovating makes space.  It builds the muscles for joy and contentment, pumping and refilling my plate with spirituality.

Wriggle your toes and flex your mind.

*

Perkiomenville

Being actually alive does not feel as good as I imagined

the relief of  not being dead would feel

therefore I have anxiety and dread,

or is it disappointment.

I feel like a failure when I am in the process of trying

I want to throw the pieces in the air and run.

Does this mean I’m weak

or does it mean I am frightened?

Is there some heavenly host of other reasons

why my crêpe paper soul twists and turns

in the breeze of the marketplace?

Some part of me was auctioned off

and its removal left a psychic scar

that even equanimity cannot ease.

I am all things wonderful and yet there is this flaw,

this toe tied thread which holds me back,

holds me down with painful accurate precision.

I look for the knife with which to cut it

all the while wondering if this will turn it into

a toe tag or a price tag.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

How Things Seem

April 26

HOW THINGS SEEM

Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy and not everyone who pulls me up is my friend.  I have been seduced by the closeness of people who used me as their shield.  When I have been held in the place of honor, the point man of life, I forgot that made me the replacement target for the one who stood behind me.  I had been offended as I was thrown to the ground.  The hands that shoved me, I saw as my rejecters.  I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing that flew by my ear thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction.  Accurate appraisal is my weakness.  Seeing things for what they are is hard.  Things are rarely how they seem.

Grow tall with your grain and the years will grow around you.

*

Would You Rather a Lamp?

I am a girl filled with expectations.

Like a ginger jar filled, stuffed caulker block full,

though the filling is the part which is unpredictable;

It could be match books, or seashells,

acorns or all those pretty capsules.

This makes me erratic and sometimes volatile.

Are you strong enough or far too sane

to stay and help me sort the contents?

It’s lonely work without a witness or a spotter.

I rather be alone than with you reluctantly,

so please try to shuck that husk and remain.

Yes, I am sometimes capricious, but I try never to be cruel.

I know sometimes you convince yourself

that leaving me to my own devices is the wisest of courses,

but don’t be fooled;

You disappear due to your weakness not strength

and the worst part about the price of abandonment

is that everyone has to pay it.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Rain

April 1

RAIN

The rain makes shadows of water.  It spills onto the ground like tiny worlds.  What had been airborne and mist is now earthbound and integral, feeding, cutting, learning the world.  Once I contemplated theories and mystery.  Now, washing dishes is a spiritual service.  The view was lovely when I was above it all but now I course through the veins of life.  There may come a time when I am untouchable again but by then I will have been a part of it all.  I will carry the world with me always, an orbiting servant not just above but through.

Engrave compliments in your mind.

*

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through.

The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment

and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder;

I climb from month to month and age to age.

When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic

till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more.

Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes

to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain.

Take away my clock and I go deaf,

remove my calendar and I go blind.

Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life