February 18
Hiding
“Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor. “Fighting a thousand secret battles when you
claim that you want peace is not right.
The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting. There is no honor in waving the white flag, but
never laying down your arms.”
“I can’t just give them up they have been in the family for
years,” my whining retort.
“I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have, and
haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,” her smug reply.
“They are good for sabotage,” I begin my running start at
her.
“Sabotage is something you only do to yourself, because who
else can you really sabotage? Who do you
really hate enough other than you?”
“My hobby is denying that, you know.”
“Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you, the war rages
within you and outside you say it’s harmony, no matter all the signs of
discord.”
“And if I were to really give up. If, I were really tired enough, how can I
insure my safety?” I asked with my hands nearly in the air.
“Tell the truth, even if it’s only to your self. Put space between you and weapons of mass
destruction. Oh, and make sure you
surrender to a friend.”
Loosen your grasp as often as you can
*
LIFE IS UNFAIR
Assuring myself I will not be permitted through the gate,
I walk the perimeter assessing the fence,
Looking for a place to exploit, a wire slightly high.
Trying to look graceful, I duck under the fence.
Telling myself I prefer life on the edge.
The water is less dangerous here on the fringe.
I wouldn't want to be swept away.
I stay clear of my peers.
I stand in the baby pool and feel confidant I won't drown.
Brushing from my conscience that I won't swim either.
Struggling to the top of the pile or scurrying underneath
Is a blatant lack of humility
Skirting the margin is the same.
Facing life and finding it unfair
I take to the world of exception
And hope to slip through the cracks to a life of safety.
In that act, I discount my talent and ability.
Worst of all, I disconnect from God.
Assuring myself I will not be permitted through the gate,
I walk the perimeter assessing the fence,
Looking for a place to exploit, a wire slightly high.
Trying to look graceful, I duck under the fence.
Telling myself I prefer life on the edge.
The water is less dangerous here on the fringe.
I wouldn't want to be swept away.
I stay clear of my peers.
I stand in the baby pool and feel confidant I won't drown.
Brushing from my conscience that I won't swim either.
Struggling to the top of the pile or scurrying underneath
Is a blatant lack of humility
Skirting the margin is the same.
Facing life and finding it unfair
I take to the world of exception
And hope to slip through the cracks to a life of safety.
In that act, I discount my talent and ability.
Worst of all, I disconnect from God.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
