On-Coming

May 11

ON-COMING

Anticipation of the approaching traffic consumes.  The tiny spec grows and develops into the arriving vehicle.  50 miles per and the rapid succession of the coming and those leaving eats quickly at my heart.  The pain seers me.  Why are these who travel from the direction of my destination passing me by?  For miles and miles, they appear to be greeters.  The breeze created by their passing chaps my face and I question my goals.  How can so many abandon my objective?  But flee it they do.  My hunger does not diminish and I press on.  Of course if we all went this way, we might tip the globe.   Maybe that’s what they fear.

Smile with your eyes, laugh with your hands, rest your heart, ease your mind.

*

Be That Girl

I have tried to protect the investment I made in the past

by selling the soul of my future.

I arrived self-possessed, a winning girl,

but I slid the self from the scene leaving me simply possessed.

I gained everything then lost it a piece at a time

starting with the parts nearest my heart.

I must draw the shards together once more

and mend this lovely crystal.

The art of living is insured by my action

not by grasping at slivers in terror

of what slips from my fingers.

I am what I have inviolate

and all else comes to fruition when I am pleased;

when I am myself.

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

Solidity

April 21

SOLIDITY

Apprehension stands in the archeological site that is my life…listening. Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come and help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence. A wet and sloppy solution. A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured. Something to build a monument on or a place to park my car. The nearby grass looks lush and green but I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads. I stand with it on bad days and against it on good ones. I pray for the mixer to arrive or at least the gravel spreader. I need to fill this hole so it can be a life and stop being a grave.

When your emotions are at low tide, explore the shoreline for shells and trinkets.

*

More Better

When I take a break from my idyllic life,

trading up to paradise,

I balk at thoughts of returning

to the simply marvelous

day to day I have worked so hard to attain.

Self accusation floods under the door,

but I whimilate it with fact.

My reluctance to turn my back on a good thing

is an asset which many days keeps me sober.

I greedily seize every improvement

and hold on for dear life.

If reflections of the past

even held a glimmer for me I might worry;

I turn from all but the highest good.

I don’t regret the past

but I shall never return to it.