February 7
From Pen to Progress
“Leave those gaters in the paddock awhile longer,” said my
sponsor.
I gave a little better than a cursory glance at the hulking
forms though I did stay strictly on my side of the fence and grasped tighter
the hand of my custodian. The once over
worked fine as my first pass through the creatures of the swamp, I didn’t fully
grasp what lay beyond the petting zoo, but given my newness this wasn’t
entirely a bad thing.
On second run I was in a boat with a glass bottom and a
guide, I had vision, clarity. Third time
through was a charm, swim fins and a rope tied about my waist, it was all too
real. I floundered and had to be hauled
bodily by my home group, my sponsor stood anchor.
I have numbered and charted these murky waters now and I see
the lure they have for my ailing, twisted mind; the intensity of the brutes
awash and the dark calling to dark make that sick sense that only an alcoholic
can parse. I have to take to those by ways with supplies and reinforcements. Never swim alone!
Hand in hand is the best way to get anywhere
*
CONSERVATION OF LOVE
Love does not diminish
It recycles like the rain
Ever in transition and transmission
Love is not salvationary or redemptive
Nor do I believe it to be the currency of Godliness.
Love is an element like cobalt or gold
It has weight and substance.
Love is the coinage of responsibility
Not a door out of consequences.
Love, true love, inspires right action
Never cowardice or disrespect.
In this strange amelioration
Standing in the wings of realism
Love is love no longer
Love is the standard I have to bear
Not the canopy I stand beneath
In the frozen center.
Love cannot endure the pressure of misinformation
And melts with friction,
Floods with irresponsibility.
Love, like money, admiration and sex, has its place
And must not have expectation of being more than it is,
With that said,
Love is peerless, to be treasured, protected and shared
Love does not diminish
It recycles like the rain
Ever in transition and transmission
Love is not salvationary or redemptive
Nor do I believe it to be the currency of Godliness.
Love is an element like cobalt or gold
It has weight and substance.
Love is the coinage of responsibility
Not a door out of consequences.
Love, true love, inspires right action
Never cowardice or disrespect.
In this strange amelioration
Standing in the wings of realism
Love is love no longer
Love is the standard I have to bear
Not the canopy I stand beneath
In the frozen center.
Love cannot endure the pressure of misinformation
And melts with friction,
Floods with irresponsibility.
Love, like money, admiration and sex, has its place
And must not have expectation of being more than it is,
With that said,
Love is peerless, to be treasured, protected and shared
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to
Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
