Campaign

August 24

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Claus, bringing delightful gifts, which make me smile.  Recovery is the Genie, which comes from staying out of bottles.  This Jin makes treasure possible but doesn’t bring it to my door.  The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze but no hope for a real life.  I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up, and live in the possibilities, which open only when I put down the drinking and the thinking.  I don’t need to pin up stockings or rub lamps, just take direction and make willingness my campaign.

Store thoughts, plant seeds.

*

Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets

Spending my life under a bushel basket

kept me from realizing who I am.

I thought because of the close quarters

I knew myself better than those free

to explore the world, yet, alas, no.

I am unaware of the world outside and inside the bin;

this woven covering served to sever

all true communications.

Even in places where my candle burned through,

it couldn’t allow sufficient light, in or out,

for as much as an SOS or a night light.

Here I am, not knowing my abilities…

my possibilities…. or my worth

and there is the world standing,

a startled stranger from me,

for I only know it as the circle

around my feet and nothing 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

Peter and I

December 16

Peter and I

This flight is not filled with the giggling cherubs of my westerly flight, but among the solemn children on this flight is Peter, the oldest of four, who is reading Tolkien and marking his place with a two page wish list.  Christmas is coming and Peter seems confident.  I wonder if we are what we read and ponder if I am what I write.  Poetry, stories, novels, declarations, it all feels like arms and legs, things I cannot move right without.  I live better when they are out and free.  I am free too, when they live on their own and I am not their soul residence.  I have to rededicate myself to the work entrusted to me for so many lives depend upon it.

Treat a book to a day out

*

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED

Relapse is not required - said my sponsor
Though at some meetings they make it seem appealing
All that ‘prodigal drunk’ treatment.

Well so far I’m living in the blessing
Of being convinced the first time- I told her
Plus what could possibly be out there
That’s better than what’s in here?

That is the point
There is so much out there that is faster and bigger
More dramatic and extreme
But I sure have never see anything better.

She patted my head and I grinned
Since I am winning the first time
Why would I want to lose?
I add just to overstate her point.

This is the perfect place for those who want it
And all the rest get drunk
But drinking is not required
Any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.

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

Have Faith

October 4

Have Faith

Strange and wonderful tragedy takes you away from me and I don’t know how it is that you return, but you do and I thank G-d, but I’m not sure it was G-d’s idea that you went away or that you came back, though, I am sure, He missed you every bit as much as I did.  I revolve the freshness of you in my mouth like candy; I swirl, but don’t want to crack it open.  Honeymoons are for people who live comprehendible lives; we fly to each other and cling like raptors plummeting to the ground.  You leave your mark upon me I do the same for you; we are none the worse for the wear.  I stand in the gush from the hydrant, soaked in the pleasure, forgoing the safety.  The world may burn down again tomorrow, I remember that it has before, but I am wiser for the singeing and weathered with soot in my eyes and charcoal piled roundabout my legs, yet I’m still standing and you are back from the dead and I think of you as Lazarus.  And now we will live the comedy for life is what lay ahead, we took the hit of death before its time and so must be off the hook for the rest.

Try not to long for Santa

*

FISHING FOR CONTENTMENT

Fishing for contentment

Is a wonderful past time.

But what is used for bait?

Is there a delicacy

To dangle before contentment

To lure it into my life?

Can I crumble the best biscotti

And leave a trail to my door?

I don’t believe contentment

Swims around waiting to be caught.

I think it’s more like the wild yeast

That finds its way to my starter.

If I put the ingredients in my life

Contentment will rise to the occasion.

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

Participant Observer

August 14

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.

Sit with impatience and sooth it

*

CAMPAIGN

Sobriety is the Santa Clause that brings delightful gifts

Which make me smile.

Recovery is the Gene

Which comes from staying out of bottles.

The Jin makes treasure possible

But doesn’t bring it to the door.

The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze

But no hope for a real life.

I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up

And live in the possibilities which open

Only when I put down the drink and the thinking.

I don’t need to pin up stockings

Or rub lamps, just take direction

And make willingness my campaign.

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

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

Campaign

August 24

CAMPAIGN


Sobriety is the Santa Claus, bringing delightful gifts, which make me smile. Recovery is the Genie, which comes from staying out of bottles. This Jin makes treasure possible but doesn’t bring it to my door. The ads and billboards of illusion built a world of booze but no hope for a real life. I have learned to turn from all the lies of picking up, and live in the possibilities, which open only when I put down the drinking and the thinking. I don’t need to pin up stockings or rub lamps, just take direction and make willingness my campaign.


Store thoughts, plant seeds.