Victory

November 2

VICTORY

Victory is a funny thing.  Bursting across the finish line ends the joyful competition and begins the wait until the next endeavor.  Pushing for success drops my life off the radar screen.  Power can propel me out of range, the center of my life overshot in and attempt to be a winner.  I am stripped of my commonality in striving for singularity.  Looking for acclaim leaves me lonely.  The winner’s circle is very small, and while the flash explodes, the development shows I am now alone.

Curiosity and beauty are their own reasons.

*

Bride in a Bentley

Who determines your worth,

the one who sets your ransom

or the one who pays it?

Will you recognize yourself

once you have been bought and paid for?

Will your life exist upon your return?

How many times has the road and its inhabitance

taken me far from what I’ve known

and extorted an exorbitant remuneration for restoration?

Redeemed is what they call it when the price is met,

yet this might not be the feeling it evokes.

Deliverance is never 100%

and reclamation is not always possible.

So keep your mind free,

but know your own worth.

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

If I name it do I know it?

March 19

If I name it do I know it?

Does emotional proximity necessitate a nearer name?  Far off I would be called earthling possibly human.  On this plain, female maybe woman; in this country Mrs. Theriault; in my home call me Sherrie, but in my bed hy calls me Baby.  Do these names offer the requisite information, no further inquires required, is it personal enough?   Is the limited nature a stunted interest from without or a privacy fence from within?  Does the boundary shift dependant upon the participants or is it an almost universal standard of metered advance and reveal?  And do I get more when I give more or does that end in less info and a change of direction?  Also who determines what I really need to know?  Wanting curiosity; my hungry mind and lonely heart do not direct all the world, yet ceaselessly they strive, shutter and ask again:  Who are you?

Step toward yourself

*

JAG

I have the most interesting lawn ornament.
It is long and sleek, low to the ground,
Resting on rubber rolls,
Steep of side and languid front and back

It has glass, glass which slants
And glass which slops into its sides.
It's paint shines when I buff it
And shows dust when I don't.

Inside there are seats and many artistic accessories
I sit on the steps and admire the thing
Then I sit in the thing and admire the porch
That's all there was until I was handed the key.

Progressive Fourth

February 13

Progressive Fourth

All I can do is stand on the grass and count the shutters, the windows, the doors.  At first I cannot approach to inspect any closer than that.  Time passes and the other steps work me.  I peer through the windows the next time and count the stuffs I can glimpse through the glass.  I possess no periscopic vision, but what is in plain sight I reckon.  Subsequently I wished to exteriorize and draw the inventory of the house out onto the lawn and tally there wishing to avoid that interior life, the poisoned vixen who haunted there.  Time passed and she recovered as did I, into the house I went.  I am now able not only to number my possessions; I can assess the flow and function, work patterns, interplay, reliability. I have now appraised not just the what, but the how of my life and progress into tomorrow.

                     

Give cooperation a hand

*

TRAVELING PICTURES

I parked next to a beaten little import.
The well of the passengers side filled
With empty sports drink bottles and soda cans
The dash board was a shrine.

Three taped photographs.
One of a young man and young woman.
One of the young woman and an older woman.
One of the young woman and an enormous marble statue.

There were small carved objects
Affixed to the dash.
Jade and soapstone figures,
Beads and a feather.

The sanctuary in my head is decked out
In a similar manner.
Postcard pictures line my mind.
People I love, trips I took, pets long gone.

The road signs of my journey
Stand as exhibits of a tour of duty
Not always to my liking
But nothing I would trade.

I know clearly where I have been
And study the map to prepare
For the future escapades and loved ones.

Trinkets strung on my life line
Give texture, flavor and flash
To my pilgrimage.