Never Let Go

August 14

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of a transparency the other becomes reflective.  When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me, I see the true face of its results.  Because I know now the destructive possibilities, I must print the picture and post it on the wall, for the day may come when addiction appears as a light for me and the mirror will be gone.  I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me and my sensibilities catch on fire.  The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler.  The glare of day can be harsh or bright.  Light is forever shifting.  I cannot count on shadows for predictions.  I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember and hold hands and never let go.

Sort advice like laundry.

*

Participant Observer

Underneath it all I am more than naked;

I am hidden by exposure.

My body can never be as nude

as life with you in my thoughts.

My mind is a polygraph you wander through.

I have determined this is more than safe

and unlock the closets.

You are not my warden looking for contraband,

nor the janitor looking for trash,

you are here, you are my friend.

Having a better look around

simply to know me better

and to love me well.

Your unfamiliar stride is exciting,

I show off the places I long for you to see

and stand aside from the rest,

it is all yours to look through.

I do not resist.

You are my peaceful guardian;

I am your willing charge.

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

Smog

June 30

SMOG

When I burn out, the smoke affects everyone in the surrounding area.  I forget to keep my wick trimmed and lamp full; I empty out and my light grows dim. I am responsible for maintenance and upkeep.  If I don’t protect my own radiance I will lose it and the darkness will be felt throughout the neighborhood.  I can’t risk the death of illumination or incur smoldering haze.  Fortification of my sobriety is a simple task if I make proper use of resources.  When I turn energy to obligation I am distracted and separated from my source, then the source I am to others is extinguished.  I can only light the darkness where I am; I can’t illuminate someone else’s path.  Nor should I pollute the way with smoke and vapor due to a lapse in my spiritual condition. 

Place the period then write to it.

*

From Mind to Pen to Paper

What a relief to have exteriorized all the swirl of thought,

which normally swarms my mind,

waiting to take the stage and run through their numbers.

Then like deciphering a code

I was able to cross out all the irrelevant and redundant information,

leaving me with a clear answer.

Once there standing on its own;

it was obvious and easily explained

how two plus three is five.

I just love anything that can be explained all on one hand

and there it was tidy and neatly fitted in the nest of my palm,

easy to grasp hold of with my fingers or my mind.

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

Claw Marks

April 18

CLAW MARKS

There is a brackish river whose current changes direction twice a day.  Its bed is well washed on every side.  It begs the question: which way is downhill?  There are times I struggle uphill in both directions.  There are times I slip from every slope.  What was 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 fingertips.

Design caution signs for your emotions.

*

What I Take from Laban’s House

If I have the audacity to have a problem

I must provide the instantaneous solution

or be the cause of world-wide panic.

Additionally it is the height of rudeness

to have open-ended dilemma.

It makes the gods uncomfortable,

makes them shift in their seats

and wish me away.

I prevent banishment

by either being problem free

or solution-full

When the answers are not to their liking

I exile myself saving them the inconvenience

and me the embarrassment.

It is never good to implode the household deities,

you never know when you might need one

for historic perspective or a door stop.

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

Circuit Speaker

October 27

Circuit Speaker

It isn’t until I listen long to the Northside poet that I realize there is such a thing as a Chicago accent.  I hear it as I never have before.  I don’t hear it in my beloved Rodger, hear only the hope he brings to share.  As I get ready to walk to the podium I wish that no one hears the Jersey in my voice only the experience I bring to share.

Dance through the mud then clean off your shoes

*

CLINGING

Large bugs cling to the soffits
Upside down as an alternative
To the rain-soaked landscape
I salute their efforts to find security
In a shrinking list of possible locations.

Awkward situations place my fingertips
And toenails holding positions
Trying to avoid life’s harsher choices.
Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives
To no option at all

I can take the difficult positions as an advantage.
I have survived and this is the goal of the game.
I am here--come what may.
I make the best of the worst times so God can help me
Make the best of the best times.

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

Sleep Tight

August 4

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?  Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?  Or twist the sheets as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?  Are night time wrestlings an indication of decadent day- time activity?  Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?  Possibly something I ate? Thought? Wished for?  I think to myself I should not have gotten into that unmade bed, should have made it up; the bed and my mind, should have straighten out the crumpled mass of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh, but instead  I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed, lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.  What time I might have saved by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows.  All is not lost, there is always tonight.  Sweet dreams straight ahead.

Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency

The other becomes reflective.

When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me

I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities

I must print the picture and post it on the wall.

For the day may come when addiction appears

As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me

And my sensibilities catch on fire.

The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,

The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting

I cannot count on shadows for predictions.

I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember

And hold hands and never let go.

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

Porcellano

August 1

Porcellano

Some days I feel like a porcelain doll; hard head, hard hands, hard feet and everywhere else is soft, gormless.  I feel useless and act out my feelings, stumbling through a day of pointless inactivity.  I know that I belong on a shelf or propped upon the pillows of a bed, not fine enough for curio or collection, merely someone of marginal decorative value.  I have gotten away from the meaning of me, the thrum of G-d’s intentions and am trapped in this world of elaboration; everything is embellished and nothing is real.  It is time to put my foot down; to feel the earth solid and right, to catch my mind and take it out of its greasy spin.  I am not a China doll and it is time to walk away from these purloined thoughts.

Wear a white cotton cord around your waist

*

I KNOW

I know more than I understand.

I know more than I let on.

I know right from wrong

Left from right, uphill from down.

I know you have my best interest at heart

I know I often don’t.

I know it hurts when I fall

But holding on isn’t easy.

I know that wanting is not needing

And needing is not enough

I know old thinking breeds old action

But new thinking is often wild

And requires two minds for review.

I know to look three ways before crossing the street

Because trouble sometimes hits head on.

I know that if life is the question, yes is the answer

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

Up and Down: Round and Round

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

*

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.

Wild

September 23

WILD

When I run wild through the rain my hair streaming behind me, water fleeing my face, I see with my heart the thousand other rains pouring from my past.  How I peel from me the soaking luggage covering my naked pain.  Nothing drives me to the cozy retreat of my bed like the humid chill of an early fall drizzle.  I slip my trembling skin between the comfort and the comforter, flex my toes, towel my hair, wipe scenes of lost love from my pale, pale soul.  Leaves rush my gutters, clog my mind.  I see the change in me as I turn heel to heel, trees spinning bare in a blank wet world.  I know this ever relived fluid, this recycled life.

Interest yourself.

*

What is Dear?

I am angry that I was taught I must hold on for dear life

instead of being taught that life is dear,

but they couldn’t teach me what they didn’t know

and couldn’t know what they had not discovered for themselves.

I wish I had learned earlier

to love the life I was taught to cling to,

but I am grateful I have been bound to life

long enough to find the joy in it.

I have found that knowing joy

causes me to cling all the more,

cling in sweetness to what was once such a bitter task.

I am angry for what I wasn’t taught,

but sadder still for what they didn’t know

and all that is lost in their lives to ignorance and tradition.

I wanted better for them

and they wanted better for me

and this is the circle which closes

around the dear that I hold onto.

Circuit Speaker

October 27

Circuit Speaker

It isn’t until I listen long to the Northside poet that I realize there is such a thing as a Chicago accent. I hear it as I never have before. I don’t hear it in my beloved Rodger, hear only the hope he brings to share. As I get ready to walk to the podium I wish that no one hears the Jersey in my voice only the experience I bring to share.

Dance through the mud then clean off your shoes

*

CLINGING

Large bugs cling to the soffits
Upside down as an alternative
To the rain-soaked landscape
I salute their efforts to find security
In a shrinking list of possible locations.

Awkward situations place my fingertips
And toenails holding positions
Trying to avoid life’s harsher choices.
Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives
To no option at all

I can take the difficult positions as an advantage.
I have survived and this is the goal of the game.
I am here--come what may.
I make the best of the worst times so God can help me
Make the best of the best times.

Sleep Tight

August 4

Sleep Tight

Did you dream? Sleep the sleep of faultless souls? Or twist the sheets as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment? Are night time wrestlings an indication of decadent day- time activity? Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance? Possibly something I ate? Thought? Wished for? I think to myself I should not have gotten into that unmade bed, should have made it up; the bed and my mind, should have straighten out the crumpled mass of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh, but instead I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed, lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea. What time I might have saved by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows. All is not lost, there is always tonight. Sweet dreams straight ahead.

Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency

The other becomes reflective.

When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me

I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities

I must print the picture and post it on the wall.

For the day may come when addiction appears

As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me

And my sensibilities catch on fire.

The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,

The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting

I cannot count on shadows for predictions.

I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember

And hold hands and never let go.

Up and Down: Round and Round

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

*

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.

Home Fires Burning

December 25

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself that is why I live with you. It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face. What I can busy myself within your service lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA by my Higher Power and Fate. Worry is time consuming and I wile away hours fretting over you and all your unresolved trifles while turning my back entirely on my life. I couldn’t be happier to have you, though from the corner of my eye I glimpse G-d packing your bags.

Wash like you matter to yourself

*

FOR THIS TIME

Your desire is an ephemeral gift I treasure

A snowflake on my fingertip, a raindrop on my tongue

Your passion is a savory treat in season for this moment

Pomegranate seeds and rich truffles tempt and delight me

Your kind touch brands me flush, anticipation spreads like flame

Wind whips the breath of my wish to the four corners

Your acuity plucked me from the page and slipped me in your pocket

I nestle quiet with the lint and the cookie remnants

Shadow of Doubt

September 1

Shadow of Doubt

The long dark cast covers my face, my thoughts, my life; it is the light blocked by my skepticism. To tear down the obstruction means a profound change of my internal architecture; walls will have to be knocked down, windows installed. The poor mouthed structure takes better to the steamroller than I wish it would. I fear the loss of my hideout, panic at the thought of a life in the sun. Skepticism builds a paper world; opaque, weak yet frightening to tear apart.

Rub the place where you land

*

WHY NOT HOME

Power is not production and production is not art.

I have to keep pulling the car to the side of the road

so I don’t miss the train of words sent to me,

from out of the dark blue life I am on the edge of living

but I still want to go home.

I will never give up these roadside excursions

into the river of thought though I do wonder why

the cable shoved into my house never gets this channel?

Why is the connection so strong on the bus not the bed?

The minefields of thought explosions seem seeded anywhere

as long as it’s at least five miles away.

Power is not production and production is not art.

I let it pour through me---it is not mine to sort.

Hold on or Dance

August 21

Hang on or Dance

Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined. Lack of power was my problem I thought, but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept… failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness. The only thing I learned from resistance was an intimate knowledge of futility. When I embraced truth… the facts…when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it; I began to enjoy the weather, knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm. I’m back in the dance of people moving about me, all keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.

Befriend science

*

CHANNELING

It’s a full feeling to be a channel.

Only an empty feeling when it’s blocked

At the base of my spine

And God can’t go to my head.

The river flows through me and my banks will hold

Excuses dam me up

And leave a dry and lifeless basin

With tributaries taxed for usefulness.

Staying in the groove conveys my Higher Powers will

Without need of my furrowed brow.

A hose with no water running

Is a place for spiders to spin.

If I shut off the service I am a breeding ground

For creeping sadness and shocking misery

Compliance allow me the view

Of flowing strength and rushing joy

The greatest of which is living with intent.

Screaming Lethargy

September 26

SCREAMING LETHARGY



The screaming lethargy of being alive after many years of wanting something else, the exhaustion of pulsing, breathing, waves and waves of thinking. Yet as tired as I am, I am. Here without a doubt, I stand. No crawling for I have not fallen, no climbing for I have reached the plain. I wait for the rain to wash over me, the truth to run through me, time to pass by me. As if on a free trip to an unwelcome destination I arrive with randomly packed bags and low expectations. I’m here now. The train doesn’t seem to be moving on. I might as well leave the station, nothing to do on the platform. There may be points of interest or flowers to be smelled. I step haltingly and fear making any connection to this unbidden place. My name is unknown; I befriend the lamppost, the birds, the street. I am tired of travel, fearful of arrival. Fury courses through my veins but the weather is pleasant, I might take off my coat and stay.

How Ever You Can!

August 21

HOW EVER YOU CAN


I heard, “let go with love.”
“You know how to do that?” asked my sponsor.
“No, that’s why I’m here to see you, but it sure sounds like something I should do.”
“Well, in a perfect world maybe we can all do it that way, but for now let go with a mean look in your eye. Let go with rage in your heart. Let go with words boiling on your tongue. Let go with the butter knife up to its hilt in the jelly jar. Let go standing at the sink wishing for some other life. Let go as a reflex. Let go as an anthem, as a prayer, as a declaration. Let go even when you don’t feel you are holding on any more. At the same time hold on to what’s important: your recovery, your Higher Power and your sense of humor."


Fly in your dreams.