Revelations

March 9

Revelations

And I, Sherrie, had a new freedom and a new happiness for the first freedom and the first happiness were passed away.  And there were no more tears. This is how it should be and for the most part this is how it is.  Hell’s gates hang broken on their hinges and I walk free.  The world is mine to explore and I am happy.  More than a notion, my life is a fact; sounder than a bank note and I am on an emotional foot race to keep pace with my recovering self.  Could it be lost?  Lost like paradise, lost like I was lost before?  Why, yes, all could be lost and that is what makes this freedom truly free and this happiness truly happy, they are mine, mine to keep and mine to lose, they may not be in my control but they are within my reach.

Voir dere contempt

*

VOLUNTARY MUTE

I have learned I don't have to answer just because someone asks.
I have learned to change subjects.
I have learned it is better to say nothing.

Repeating the phrase, "It's just my opinion."
Followed with, "I could be wrong."
Has proven insufficient.

Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected
But as of yet none have turned out better.
This upsets.

People become angry when I am correct.
They are less angry when I'm silent.
I tell the truth and trouble follows.

I didn't get sober to lie so I keep my mouth shut.
There is no reason to distress folks
And reality has a way of doing that.

Silence is my new defense
I hide in it
And find my new freedom.

Unless it's my sponsor, my sponsee or my cherished friend
Battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest
And spare others their outburst.

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

What

March 5

What and When, When and How……and Why

Arriving at the place where I have nothing to prove, afforded me the luxury of not having to proclaim the amount of time I have, when I share in a meeting.  Taking the score keeping out of the equation I was then able to think of what it was that motivated me to speak in a meeting.  Self-Possession, a great gift to inhabit, a greater gift to demonstrate; quiet dignity is a real favorite of mine.  If I am calm yet in control, if there is time, if there is a lull, I can share parts of my experience.  If I have chaos, an agenda, a theory, a grudge it is all better left unsaid in the meeting and saved for the less vulnerable ear of my sponsor.  For if I am wrong I might persuade in error and if I am right I might convert in righteousness. 

 Why is it that what I never say rings louder than anything I do?

Leave gossip where you find it

*

MOTE

I dug the mote, the alligators came on their own.
The rain fell, I did not bid it.
I've burned all the bridges
I've sold the farm.

I wonder at the company I keep
The birds fly in and stay for a season
Friends used to wave as they passed
Now my island is overgrown.

I stand to my chin in the tall grass
I guess it's a matter of maintenance
What I don't keep pruned grows back
The connections I don't secure weaken and fail.

I am subject to all that falls, if I don't keep my roof on.
The wind chaps me without the walls of my home
No clothes and I burn
No joy and all I do is cry.

It takes more than a continuous ditch
To protect my heart.
More than water and reptiles
To safeguard my soul.

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

Live Bait

January 12

Live Bait

Is being a taunt to others really a life?  Dangling as the cover for a hook, luring intended and unintended to their deaths, is that living?  Or if I draw you with my attack rather than my appeal is that a worthwhile existence?  If I carry myself filled with poison praying for a strike is that anything other than a march to an unhappy grave for two, or more?  Hidden under an avalanche of harassment strips me of my vital quality and my soul loses its true nature. I am allowed to transcend the setup of competition and social strife.  It’s alright to be tempting with no agenda.  I could be an appetizer if only I removed the barbs or better yet I could be dessert.

Tuck tiny wishes between your toes.

*

JOY IS NOT ENOUGH

I was driving around in my car
Eating a meltingly ripe persimmon
On the radio came a fiddle playing band
Performing their rendition of In The White Room

I was traveling with the three drafts of my first step
Version one consisted of 690-some words
And the final had only four, JOY IS NOT ENOUGH
That's it, the whole thing.

Today my life is unmanageable
Due to the fact that having a balanced life
Feeling my wide range of feelings, including joy,
Is not sufficient to eliminate the pain and damage of the past.
My horrific childhood has not healed
Has not mended seamlessly
I have joy today, everyday, at some point
In proportion to my sober choices.

I fail to realize the promise doesn't say, Heal the past
It says, I will not regret the past.
I don't, at least not any of the choices I made,
Other peoples choices are not mine to regret.

I will not wish to shut the door on the past
And I don't wish to.
I want it Healed
I may not get my wish

Just because I am doing my part to heal the past
Doesn't make anyone else do it
I can't strong-arm the perpetrators into recovery
The way they strong-armed me into the abuse

JOY IS NOT ENOUGH but it's a hell of a start.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/qnr7COwlqqU

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

The Boat

December 5

THE BOAT

On my ride home from work there is 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?  My sponsor says I shouldn't ask any question which starts with the word 'why'.  You know my reply.

If my Higher Power has a plan...if it includes a river and a fence…  if I'm in this plan, me, the rowboat…I just don't see it.  Not seeing my purpose in life is a theme in my life says my sponsor.  I don't tell her the theme in hers.

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 all around me.  Completely in spite of the fact THERE IS NO WATER!  My Higher Power loves me.  I am the boat.

Enjoy the flowers and slide on the snow.

*

It All Points to Joy

Can Love reweave the fabric which hate destroys?

Can Kindness resew the field

torn through with disregard?

Can Beauty paint the world anew

after so much ugliness has rained down upon us?

My heart believes these three cannot fail

to make things right

for what other point could there be than Joy?

Vlog: http://youtu.be/chEY7foQ0Eo

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

Victory

November 2

VICTORY

Victory is a funny thing.  Bursting across the finish line ends the joyful competition and begins the wait until the next endeavor.  Pushing for success drops my life off the radar screen.  Power can propel me out of range, the center of my life overshot in and attempt to be a winner.  I am stripped of my commonality in striving for singularity.  Looking for acclaim leaves me lonely.  The winner’s circle is very small, and while the flash explodes, the development shows I am now alone.

Curiosity and beauty are their own reasons.

*

Bride in a Bentley

Who determines your worth,

the one who sets your ransom

or the one who pays it?

Will you recognize yourself

once you have been bought and paid for?

Will your life exist upon your return?

How many times has the road and its inhabitance

taken me far from what I’ve known

and extorted an exorbitant remuneration for restoration?

Redeemed is what they call it when the price is met,

yet this might not be the feeling it evokes.

Deliverance is never 100%

and reclamation is not always possible.

So keep your mind free,

but know your own worth.

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

Pieces of Sky

October 29

PIECES OF SKY

The sky falls in pieces and clutters around my feet.  Scattered are the moon, stars and sun.  Fear and desire have consumed all the rest.  Great tides of resentment wash away reality and replace it with illusion and propaganda.  What am I to do when want drives the course?  Satisfaction is unknown; the luminous butterfly I believed extinct has not yet come to me.  I leave the shards of life to tinkle as I stumble through them and forget to ask for wings of sweet contentment from unexplored realms.  Paper dreams burn with fervor; I peer to see what stands behind.  The gracious weather carries me as a seed to a vaulted canopy, celestial spaces, buoyant and fertile.  I will grow away from the rarefied fragments of unrealistic vistas, sinking roots deep in cohesion and truth.  Pieces of sky melt to rainbows; home is the nature of things.

Jingle your intellectual change.

*

On a Half-shell in Front of Tiffany’s

Pretty petty pearls wait in oysters

more perturbed than annoyed.

I string my tears for the sake of posterity

leaving the dreams to fend for themselves.

I am nothing if not splendidly prepared

for a life less steeped in wishes than realism.

Opening volleys tell a tale of round irritation,

but I am not finished just yet.

Joy comes from surpassing obstacles

and wearing healed grief

as precious gems around my neck.

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

Joy is Not Enough

October 12

JOY IS NOT ENOUGH

I was driving around in my car, eating a meltingly ripe persimmon.  On the radio came a fiddle-playing band performing their rendition of In The White Room.  I was traveling with the three drafts of my first step, version one consisting of 690-some words and the final consisting of only four.  Joy is not enough.  That’s it.  The whole thing.  Today my life is unmanageable due to the fact, having a balanced life, feeling my wide range of feelings including joy, is not sufficient to eliminate the pain and damage of the past.  My horrific childhood has not healed, has not mended seamlessly.  I have joy today, every day at some point, in proportion to my sober choices.

I fail to realize the promise doesn’t say heal the past; it says I will not regret the past.  I don’t, at least not any of the choices I made.  Other peoples’ choices are not mine to regret, so I can’t do that for them.  I will not wish to shut the door on the past, and I don’t wish to.  I want it healed.  I may not get my wish.  Just because I am doing my part to heal the past doesn’t make anyone else do it.  I can’t strong-arm the perpetrators into recovery the way they strong-armed me into abuse.

Joy is not enough, but it’s a hell of a start.

Lend your assets; keep your defects home.

*

Matching

“Matching calamity for serenity,”

is a task requiring attentive diligence.

Each tragedy has its unique blast pattern

and necessitates a precisely cut cure.

Coverage is one concern and depth is another,

the weight of the healing atmosphere

must equal the corrosive depletion caused by ruin.

I have to make available the wound

in order to receive the remedy;

anytime I camouflage or barricade my injury

I have eliminated the opportunity for a corresponding solution.

Knowing this fact

and answering it with right action is the job of a lifetime,

but I cannot think of a more productive use of my time.

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

A Little Extra Hope

October 2

A LITTLE EXTRA HOPE

“What will you do with a little extra hope?” asked my quizzical sponsor.

“What good is a little hope?” my retort.

“A little hope got you sober.  What can you do with a little more?  Could you take out your dreams and fly them on a breeze?  Could you throw yourself into a wave of intention and see if you can ride it out?  Breathe easier, smile broader?  Take my hand tighter and walk the road awhile longer before you run for refuge?  Now let me ask you a better question.  What couldn’t you do with a little more hope?”

“Fail.”

Wash as a meditation.

*

Sackcloth

Tragedy is a tale unfinished.

Life is far longer than calamity can endure.

I will not give up, not even when hope is lost.

For life carries forward;

more is filled with optimism.

Threads break, but the fabric is woven still,

flowing off the living loom waiting to be used.

I will cut my swath and fashion a garment to wear

and if sometimes it is filled with ashes

I will sit and grieve

all the while knowing that this is never the stories end.

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

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.

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

Autumn

August 25

AUTUMN

The falling leaves slap my hand as I ride the road at fifty miles per, my arm dangling

The trees are shedding their masquerade

Exposed they stand stark, stripped

Naked to the soul

The growth of this year's yearning waves on the fringe

I can follow this lead

Remove pretense not clothing

Stand before all who have an interest in seeing me

Unashamed of my wants

And the things I reach for

I can cast off the uniform of evolution

And enjoy a long winter of truth

Do what you do.

*

Echidna’s Child

The difference between perplexed paranoia

and procrastination is sometimes a subtle distinction.

The confusion which swirls,

confounding me along my trudge,

gets the name of procrastinator.

I am not at all sure I should continue to call it by that name.

I believe that quite possibly I am an internal chimera,

a blend of creatures, both mythic and fantastic,

striving to live as one functioning specter,

in a world too hard for a disparate visage as myself.

When I am most myself,

when the goal is pure and true, I work with a will.

When I am making deadly compromise

and risking my soul for social ease or the approval of the keepers,

my dragon heart rebels and I am struggling

against the fire in my stomach and fear screaming in my head.

I don’t know how to eliminate the conflict,

but for now I will attempt to stop calling myself names.

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 Red is Red

August 13

HOW RED IS RED

I check my color and contrast; I paint the setting sun.  Add a bit of yellow and fill to the edge burgeoning poppies.  Add more blue and paint the blood which pools around my mind, the equalizer of all my mental conversations.  Too much is never enough.  As the story goes, I pursue my shades and signatures.  Too much for the fingers and not enough for the toes, I disregard fraudulent crimson. I scale the mountains of intention looking for perfection.  The leach of my addiction drains the other colors from my rainbow.  My sponsor asks only one question.

“How red is red?”

Allow your thoughts to be neighborly with your feelings.

*

Phillips Head

What’s stuck in makes the thing.

What sticks out is all that’s seen.

I can tell so much from what is left out,

yet there is much I will never know, can never tell.

The twist, the give, the opening to variation

is known, but never acknowledged.

Somehow indecent if spoken

or thought of too loudly, insinuation is ignored

Society allows us to focus on

what is held after or due to this act.

We have built the whole world

on what we can screw together.

But we will merely hallow this,

never embrace the fact until it falls apart.

Then we exclaim over the rawness

of how it caused us to be turned around,

The risk and wrongness,

ignoring just how much good

can come from just a simple screw.

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

Celebrations

May 24

CELEBRATIONS

“You wore a wrist corsage to the dump?”

“You said to celebrate every activity,” I retorted to my sponsor.

“Yes, by doing them with purpose.  Not everything needs to be a production number.  Sometimes just showing up is enough.  Putting too much energy into preparation can leave you without resources.  It’s okay to make an appearance, do the simple act and move on.  That is a celebration in its own way.  Don’t squander your vitality on the mundane.  Do you know what I mean?” asks my sponsor.

“Don’t waste flowers on trash heaps?"  I answer.

“Yes, and don’t wipe your bottom with poetry.  I mention this in case you get any ideas.”

Put flower petals in your phone book

*

If Garfunkel Was Here

Speak of the dead and paint the living.

Paint them in a good light when you can

and into a corner when you have to.

Read the books of future generations

rather than acting as the arrogant,

who attempt to write these volumes.

Expunge nothing leave it all on view,

but move past it after taking in the implications.

Water flows under the bridge until it collapses

then it carries the bridge away.

So, speak of the dead don’t drown them,

paint the living don’t stain them,

look to the future don’t dictate to it

and let the water run.

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

Bratzlav

May 15

BRATZLAV

If all the world is a narrow bridge, I must broaden my mind.  If all the doors close to the passage of a hallway, I must exit through the window.  Never again can I stay and shelter in a small and confining refuge.  A womb is a place to come out of; it is never a place of return.  I am not to seek over- exposure but I must ever widen the gate.  The brave face I show is the gift of a tight world owning me for far too long.  Fear is never meant to be larger than life and the world should never collapse around the sweetness of a smile.  Today carries us.  Tomorrow draws us.  The world is a bridge.

Carpet the memories that echo shame in your mind.

*

Underoos

Why is it that I store undies I never wear

in my panty drawer and leave no room for my favorites?

Why is it that I have things in cupboards

that have not seen the light of day in years,

but they are kept as sacred?

I don’t use my storage for me

it is saved for obligation to inherited obsession.

I live on the fringes of the only life I have;

I didn’t question this.

didn’t see it for what it really is.

I don’t live in my skin only my head.

I don’t enjoy today only plan for tomorrow.

After years at this address it is time for me to move in.

The mortgage is more than paid;

it is time to spend my inheritance.

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

Pink Cloud

April 30

PINK CLOUD

When the pink cloud lands in my valley, my task is to walk.  The pleasure of its presence can never outweigh the practice this cloud affords me. I walk in a haze of cherry blossom lightness; the future is a blur I do not fear.  Forward motion seeds my inertia; my gyroscope is set.  When dark clouds gather and the way is overshadowed, I will keep on.  When the test begins and I must proceed in the obscurity of night, the lively steps of pink-cloud days will cheer and empower me.  I can embed my future with right action and bank the confidence I feel today, saving it for the rain swept days that come to everyone.  Progress is positive even when made in bliss.

Get a cozy blanket for the times when the answers don’t come.

*

Reguess

When in my sarcasm

I suggested that you ‘guess again’,

I realized that you were in fact guessing,

guessing about everything,

Guessing in order to create a process of elimination,

a tool on which I now recognize you entirely depend.

Guessing as a way of life is a tragedy.

I’m not saying that trying to know every last thing in the world

is an acceptable alternate goal, but to reach an adult age

and not even be able to work your way up to a possible hunch

is scary, scarier than even my sarcasm,

Which at this moment seems interminable,

but I’m sure you guessed that.

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

The Orphanage of My Heart

March 26

THE ORPHANAGE OF MY HEART

The orphanage of my heart holds many children, children of my past.  They gaze at me, fixed in an attempt to draw me near their needs.  I scurry, often my head down, eyes averted, not knowing how to offer comfort or consideration to these hapless souls.  Fearing the largesse of the poverty, I decline to open my small purse.  What could I tender other than a tease?  Nearly barren in my heart-broken, disconsolate, inconsolable state, I rarely even obligate myself to extending my hand.  This is the pit of my idiocy.  These wee ones have the world of hope and strength to give.  I am their offertory.  I am the place where their gold resides.  They live inside me to fill me and bind me to life and light.  I flee them in the height of misunderstanding.  Disconnected from these inner spirits, I am impoverished and far too weak to grasp their help.  Too fogged to see the world within, I starve in the world without.

Incubate an idea.

*

New Borne

What happens when you finally get what you want,

what you barely dared to dream?

What happens when you can hardly do more

than drip tears down from smiling eyes?

Where do you go with a future filled with proposed joy?

Heaven is an option if only you believed,

but hell has been such a perennial destination

it’s hard to realize there will be no return trip this year

or possibly ever again.

The work required to change

from an attitude of longing to one of satisfaction

is as real as all the work needed thus far.

Tending love is a host of disciplines

I want to step to, like I have done it all my life,

like I was born to do it

and I was,

Still growth is accompanied

by its own pain and awkwardness

and who am I to deny this treat.

Any new life worth living

is worth the pain to bear 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

Dichotomy's Embrace

March 4

DICHOTOMY’S EMBRACE

Contentment and security bleed in through the doors and windows of my heart.  Peace blows its fine wind across my mind.  I fear for my identity.  I raise my hand to beat the drum.  Is my pulse still there if the beat of discontent is not?  The warmth seeps in, my fingers uncurl.  I resist the urge to tilt my face to the sun.  How can I be I, if my countenance is not bleak?  Mirth escapes my lips.  Am I a creature of laughter?

Shadows play across the shade.  My brain feels through levels of sheltered memory.  I am old and age hangs from my brow.  I am young and exposure stings my flesh.  In all this, joy?  Where can I enfold this antithesis?  A child of extreme, yes.  Brooding and rage; hounding and silence.  How have sprinkles and starlight added to the mix?  Purring, musing and sweet kisses.  What am I in this embrace?

Write a collage.

*

The Horse of a Different Stripe

When I arrived at the horse and pony show,

I saw all there was to see;

there were Morgans, Walkers, and Paints.

Yet I couldn’t help but return

to this particular zebra,

the spark of my imagination,

the inspiration of my dreams.

There was no help for me,

I want what I want and need what I need.

It was all about spirit, all about soul.

The fire in its eyes matched

the burning of my heart,

ignition at the point of recognition.

Then I stumble, then I fall,

bad behavior and wrong thinking,

the selfishness of the self-involved

takes hold and runs my mouth, “

Nice mount, great steed,

But can nothing be done about these stripes?”

The flash in those eyes,

the knowing knickers, said it all.

I was trying to stay in my small place

and that would never work with her,

if I wanted the Zebra,

I had to be willing to go to Africa.

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

Flight 548

December 11

Flight 548

What a happy flight, wing to wing, smiles, good cheer, the air is kind, sweet, dry, easy to breathe.  I am so blessed.  I fly to destiny watching the traveling baby circus play around me.  Giggles and drool surround me, infuse me with glee.  People wander the aisle looking like well loved characters from long forgotten books and we soar.  Time does not pass any more quickly this way, but it is similar to time in heaven rather than time spent in hell.

Mix jelly with joy

*

RETRO ANTICIPATION AND SUNSHINE

The night after a victory I fret about the blocks.
Will my stance be right?
Will I leave clearly?

I have been first through the tape
I have won the race
But yet I worry how I will start.

Had I anticipated a win
I might have handled the accolades better.

Apprehension has a long half-life
And feeds through the night
On my gizzards and my dreams.

Failure gives homework,
There are rewrites and type-O’s
But checkmate leaves an empty board
And hands to shake.

The long ride home is filled with
Recriminating thoughts of luck and fortune.
By the time I arrive home
The win is devalued and no longer mine.

I must pry misgivings from the winners circle
And enjoy these moments in the sun
They are just as real as any others.

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

It All Points To Joy

December 9

It All Points to Joy

Can Love reweave the fabric which hate destroys?  Can Kindness resew the field torn through with disregard?  Can Beauty paint the world anew after so much ugliness has rained down upon us?  My heart believes these three can not fail to make things right for what other point could there be than Joy?

Leach lessons from struggle

*

CHANGE IN MENU

If God is drunk we pray for spiritual sobriety
And strong sponsorship.
If God is sober we ask for things on God’s behalf
And glory in answered prayer

It is amazing that rain comes down
If I dance for it or not
I can get this wonderful recovery
Just like the rest of “we agnostics”.

I don’t have to shake your hand, wink my eye
Or say some special bit of poetry to have it.
Just the same way that weather is and changes
And deepens so too is my spiritual condition.

It is there as I tread this path
I don’t have to mark rows in my garden
For plants to grow
I wish for God a salad with two forks
We no longer need to share a bottle.

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

To Your Health

October 29

To Your Health

Health is a pleasure; health restored is celebration girded with gratitude.  The shock of illness quickly imbeds itself to an irrefutable unchangeable fact.  When this veil is lifted the body responds with glee, the soul with relief touched with disbelief.  The satisfaction of being hale is the bedrock and once this is shaken its return is nothing more than astonishing.  I am never more aware of the miraculous nature of life than when I feel alive once more after having felt the doom of sickness.

Throw out ancestral trash

*

QUILTER

What more comfort can exist in the world
Than a conglomeration of turned edges and love?
Fancy stitches or not the assembled world of cloth
Stands testament to devotion and diligence.

Careful collections, meaningful to the collector
And mysterious to the possessor,
Fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe.
Time is testimony to endurance.

Thread against thread,
Solidarity is strength embracing flexibility.
The bed of life is made and remade daily
With the affection of kind quilters needles of love.

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