Migration

March 7

Migration

Why does an alcoholic leave the drink behind?  To go where it’s warm, because drunkenness has become cold comfort, because the climate has changed.  The wind resists the flight from the bottle and the initiative to break the flow is rotated among the flock.  Though each member of the band plays their part, the one diverting the air just ahead of me and the one just behind trumpeting still hold the majority of my attention.  Flocking is my primary purpose because survival is the intention of life, demise the intent of my illness.  One more sober day is all I can ask, it’s all I ever need, it’s all that’s ever offered.

Put wheels under procrastination

*

POPCORN FLAVORED LOLLIPOP

I can't know it, I can't believe it,
The world of popcorn flavored lollipops
Is now being visited upon me.

Both a surprise and a comfort,
A popcorn flavored lollipop
Given to me by a gas station attendant.

A blast of sugar and salt wake my tongue.
What can a mind do
In the face of buttered-salted bonbon on a stick?

I wouldn't have thought of it, no in a million years.
This is somehow a source of hope to me,
There are open minded people living in the world around me.

I often pray for creative thinking on the part of my Higher Power
I inadvertently dismiss the populace
Who are producing prodigies of ingenious originality and cunning.

I want the world to be gifted with what sobriety has given me.
Candy is not world peace
But many great things start with a little sweetness

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Floral Trophies

November 21

FLORAL TROPHIES

Captured pet plants grow in my window.  Why these specimens are given such regal care I suspect, but can’t explain.  Delicate shoots pile out of sturdy stalks; roots force the confines of my decorative pots.  How many neighborly blooming faces stare into my kitchen, greeting me mornings?  I am amazed what good company my leafy friends can be when I am loving myself.  Advantageous to my mental health, I breathe their exhaust and they breathe mine.  Symbiotic, we live.  I grow and flower; grateful these plants keep me.

Allow also small dreams that fit in your hand.

*

Jet Lagging

Baby’s feet kick in the isle

and we are all cocooned in our seats.

The movies play and earphones dangle in our ears.

We are jetting across the country in our own little worlds.

Landing can not happen soon enough for me,

not that I want to foreshorten the flight.

I just know I have a stack of lives waiting for me

and I would like to get back to living them.

I have been a week away, a vacation for sure and true

but I have my keep to earn, my obligations are many.

I hope to have done myself proud when I am through,

but until then there is much to do.

Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCezuhFpWTE&feature=youtu.be

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

My Heroine

October 18

MY HEROINE

The corpse that is my childhood is mine to protect from the wolves and rats of denial and collusion.  The infant who commits suicide in self-defense is my heroine.  The pure thinking of an uncluttered mind seizes on the only possible way for me to survive.  Her death at her own hand is my rescue.  If the bad had killed her I would have died with her.  In her plan, I was left as the seed she ejected in her assent.  She is gone from this place; I feel her only as the wisp of memory.  The tiny body laid flat on the carpet, her pressed pinafore somehow more alive than she, is the unfinished business of prevention.  As long as I see her there and do not walk away from my responsibility and never forget she protected me with the life she never lived, I am free to live this life.

Throw ice cubes up for God to catch.

*

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for;

I need to be with those who climb,

not those who slide.

I hate to say it, but looking cool

and sitting on the sidelines

does nothing for me or my sobriety.

I have to build those calluses,

require patches in my clothes,

carry a hammer to pound in those spikes.

If I don’t see tools in your hands

and bodily evidence that you have been using them,

I really don’t have time for you.

This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me

and if it isn’t for you then have fun

and I hope you have a good seat,

but I am not staying for your tea party;

I have no time for tarts.