Clinging

November 9

CLINGING

Large bugs cling to the soffits, upside down, as an alternative to the rain soaked landscape.  I salute their efforts to find security in a shrinking list of possible locations.  Awkward situations place me, fingertips and toenails holding position, trying to avoid life’s harsher choices.  Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives to no options at all.  I can take the difficult positions as an advantage.  I have survived and this is the goal of the game.  I am here come what may.  I make the best of the worst times so God can help me make the best of the best times.

Turn with the tide.

*

Picture Window

When God sticks His face in my window it brightens my day.

What that shining face looks like in other windows I do not know,

but I try to memorize the eyes, the brow, the winning smile

before my time is up and the wind shifts.

The flash of a friendly face lights up the house,

my yard, the corners of my soul.

I imbibe the rich glow before it moves on,

letting my core charge with incandescence, warming my mettle.

I am long and longing for this happy countenance

and only when the blocks tumble in my mind

do I realize that it is two- way glass in that window

and stick my face in it and offer it to God.

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

Spontaneous Generation

July 11

SPONTANEOUS GENERATION

Dust under the bed turns into bugs. My grandfather believed in these alchemies of myth.   I thought myself free from the small witchcrafts of threat.  The longer I stay sober, the more real is the insidious nature of my disease.  Mental clutter does breed all manner of squirming and chattering vermin.  Every intellectual closet I leave uncleaned is a brooding box of contempt, false pride and bloated ego. The synchronism of hatchling defects and nursing grudges, fairy tale thinking and firebrand action, mimic Grandpa’s bedbug rantings.  I can never turn my back on unswept philosophy or the dross of assumptions I’ve left waiting in piles.  Spiritual house cleaning is all that saves me from the transmigration of blood sucking, life-draining phantasm.  Supernatural transformation needn’t plague me if I take right action. The difference between blessings and curses is the direction you are going.

Tiptoe into your heart for a peek.

*

A Year for Me

The world is my mollusk

and I am its pennyweight paragon,

witty girl that I am.

I have spent enough time

surrounded by wet feet and confining shells,

all held at the bottom of the sea.

This is a year for me.

I am going to climb over the rim of my briny brink

and try myself against the fearsome winds of chance.

Although souse is buoyant

I feel strong enough to stand my ground.

Time has come for life, open and raw,

but I shall leave the clams to the casino.

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

Clinging

November 9

CLINGING

Large bugs cling to the soffits, upside down, as an alternative to the rain soaked landscape.  I salute their efforts to find security in a shrinking list of possible locations.  Awkward situations place me, fingertips and toenails holding position, trying to avoid life’s harsher choices.  Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives to no options at all.  I can take the difficult positions as an advantage.  I have survived and this is the goal of the game.  I am here come what may.  I make the best of the worst times so God can help me make the best of the best times.

Turn with the tide.

*

Picture Window

When God sticks His face in my window it brightens my day.

What that shining face looks like in other windows I do not know,

but I try to memorize the eyes, the brow, the winning smile

before my time is up and the wind shifts.

The flash of a friendly face lights up the house,

my yard, the corners of my soul.

I imbibe the rich glow before it moves on,

letting my core charge with incandescence, warming my mettle.

I am long and longing for this happy countenance

and only when the blocks tumble in my mind

do I realize that it is two- way glass in that window

and stick my face in it and offer it to God.

Spontaneous Generation

July 11

SPONTANEOUS GENERATION

Dust under the bed turns into bugs. My grandfather believed in these alchemies of myth.   I thought myself free from the small witchcrafts of threat.  The longer I stay sober, the more real is the insidious nature of my disease.  Mental clutter does breed all manner of squirming and chattering vermin.  Every intellectual closet I leave uncleaned is a brooding box of contempt, false pride and bloated ego. The synchronism of hatchling defects and nursing grudges, fairy tale thinking and firebrand action, mimic Grandpa’s bedbug rantings.  I can never turn my back on unswept philosophy or the dross of assumptions I’ve left waiting in piles.  Spiritual house cleaning is all that saves me from the transmigration of blood sucking, life-draining phantasm.  Supernatural transformation needn’t plague me if I take right action. The difference between blessings and curses is the direction you are going.

Tiptoe into your heart for a peek.

*

A Year for Me

The world is my mollusk

and I am its pennyweight paragon,

witty girl that I am.

I have spent enough time

surrounded by wet feet and confining shells,

all held at the bottom of the sea.

This is a year for me.

I am going to climb over the rim of my briny brink

and try myself against the fearsome winds of chance.

Although souse is buoyant

I feel strong enough to stand my ground.

Time has come for life, open and raw,

but I shall leave the clams to the casino.