More

April 6

MORE

Sometimes people get more than they can handle.  The evidence of this is their insanity or death.  God is not the actuary of heaven, managing tragedy the way my loan officer manages my debt load.  The victim blamers run to the ‘lack of faith’ accusation.  I have to keep my hands tightly on the wheel of life or risk strangling the parrots who chirp outlandish claims but try to make it sound like help.  I have to live with what I experience as real and be sober today.  I will have to leave the measure of ‘more’ to time out of mind.

Lift your feet and let the chaos pass underneath

*

Two Things That Should Be One

The difference between my will and God’s will

is that God actually likes me all the time,

never looks to punish and would rather

that I don’t settle for less than what is best for me.

The difference between God’s will and my will

Is that left to my own devices

I would run in a perpetual circle and dig a trough.

I would never ask for help

and would refuse if it were offered.

I would take on misguidedness as a mantle

and wear it to my wake.

Often my will and God’s will are miles apart,

but they needn’t be.

God is the president of my fan club;

I just need to start attending the meetings.

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.

The Delano's

May 23

The Delano’s

Indifference is the backbone of power. It is a state of faithlessness, not infidelity, but rank apathy, saving every ounce of ardor for the prize you seek. I thought I was the prize and I am; I’m just no longer yours. Cast aside for the leviathan and the miscreants I wonder what I could have done to hold your attention, the answer is nothing. Nothing could be done. Blinded by the ambition of heroism the struggle is the goal and no gem no matter its brilliance can check your drive toward a place in the epic narrative. Tis the hero’s lament to save every life except your own.

Bend with the tracks or don’t take the train

*

SEASONAL EXPECTATIONS

If I am out of sync with the way the world turns

I can be nothing but disappointed

I arrive with ice skates on the hottest summer day

And grieve the loss of spring

I shiver in my sandals and ponder

The need for a windshield scrapper, the autumn so long past

I must orchestrate my moods and movements

With the evolution and revolution about me

I will learn to sing with the doves in the morning

And the coyotes come the moon

I can spin with the stars

And grow with the grass

I don’t need to counter-balance life

If I learn to bend with the tides

It all comes around again;

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