Entrenched

November 1

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.

Topple trivial towers

*

MY MOTHERS FACE

The way that age pours down my mothers face
When she is sad reminds me
That grief runs through my blood.

Generation after generation
Has been transfused with anxious woe.
Heartbreak vexes minds full of fear.
There is no easy way
To round the bend on sharp pointed issues
The route is circuitous.

I battle the chaotic thinking to fight my way back
To a place where my mothers eyes sparkle
As they squint closed with her smile.
The war of peace is not easily won by contemporaries.
We must close ranks between the ages
To keep the joy from sheeting off our skin
And keep the sadness in proportion.

Restore us to our possible bliss
We can over take ecstasy from there.

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

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.

My Mother's Face

January 29

MY MOTHER’S FACE

The way that age pours down my mother's face when she is sad reminds me that grief runs through my blood. Generation after generation has been transfused with anxious woe. Heartbreak vexes minds full of fear. There is no easy way to round the bend on sharp pointed issues; the route is circuitous. I battle the chaotic thinking to fight my way back to a place where my mother’s eyes sparkle as they squint closed with her smile. The war of peace is not easily won by contemporaries. We must close ranks between the ages to keep the joy from sheeting off our skin and keep the sadness in proportion. Restore us to our possible bliss; we can overtake ecstasy from there.

Build ladders for the boxes that confine you.

*

Sponsorship

Right now, as I think of sponsorship,

I think of all the things I have done wrong.

Times when I was not understanding enough

and times when I was too understanding and enabling.

Sponsors I chose for ulterior motives

and the ones I didn't challenge when they wandered away.

I search my mind for the ingredients

that were in the mix when things went well

and the dominant component was willingness, mine and theirs.

Whether I was sponsor or sponsee,

willingness overrode ability, determination and love.

We had to come to the table willing,

this was never something we were able to cook up or construct.

Nor is it something I can always hold onto,

sometimes willingness evaporates

or slips away like sand in a clenched fist.

The permanence and impermanence

of sponsorship awes and frightens me.

Like a guidewire twisted from many strands

none of which reaches from end to end

I worry about the unraveling but depend on the strength.