Horse Play

July 17

Horse Play

The sequestered equestrian rides alone through the night; the wood is as quiet as she.  Passing no one; speaking not a word, she slips into the paddock without a nicker or a neigh. I long to be just as she, not silent sentinel, but living a whist fleet life, a power unto myself.  What stands between are my hurt feelings and my longing to be loved.  I can’t blame myself for either, but work to heal and grow.  Nagging need is a pestilence I will be well rid of; the irredeemable past is luggage for a catalog, not for hauling on my back.  I will mount up and ride my great round stead, the night is mine when I am ready the path is there I know.

Imagine an ostrich in flight

*

GRAFT

The bottom has been cut out

My underpinnings stripped from me..

Budding ambition whittled down, transplanted,

Saddled onto the rock like stock of other peoples sobriety.

Taped to the leg of my sponsor I heal and grow.

I splice my thinking with the rich ideas of improved living

I cling to the cleft, divisions made from the people,

Places and things of my past leave me split,

Primed for fresh growth and opportunity.

Never again do I need return to the sordid

Acquisition of power or control

There is no gain when I am bolted to position and influence

Graft is graft for good or bad

I don’t have to grow where I was planted.

Do Not Enter

June 23

Do Not Enter

Putting all the mess securely behind that door is no protection.  If the keys are changed will I be able to open it?  If the locks retumbled will I crack the combination?  Like a demon sealed within a womb emergence is inevitable either upon this mortal plain or cellularly encoded and reborn at a later date.  Prison is what holds captive the innocent, evil is always at liberty.  Walling off my parts and pieces severs limbs and destroys thinking.  Loads of cheesecloth is what I need; filter and refilter, catching all debris.  Putting the toxic things to better use and making myself free.

Respect experimentation

*

ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT

Arrested development was bad enough

The living death sentence it imposes

Is completely unacceptable

My childhood ran down the hill

Away from the mountain of confusion

Which is life in this society

My ability to mature was damaged

And what I learned to do was mutate

I could move laterally but never grow up.

I became the goose being grown for its liver

All the honk and squawk in the world

Couldn’t change my plight

I don’t have to understand how I was let out

Of the prison of addiction

As long as I don’t go back

I’ll never fear breaking out in handcuffs

Or getting locked in my crib.

Revelations

March 9

Revelations

And I, Sherrie, had a new freedom and a new happiness for the first freedom and the first happiness were passed away.  And there were no more tears. This is how it should be and for the most part this is how it is.  Hell’s gates hang broken on their hinges and I walk free.  The world is mine to explore and I am happy.  More than a notion, my life is a fact; sounder than a bank note and I am on an emotional foot race to keep pace with my recovering self.  Could it be lost?  Lost like paradise, lost like I was lost before?  Why, yes, all could be lost and that is what makes this freedom truly free and this happiness truly happy, they are mine, mine to keep and mine to lose, they may not be in my control but they are within my reach.

Voir dere contempt

*

VOLUNTARY MUTE

I have learned I don't have to answer just because someone asks.
I have learned to change subjects.
I have learned it is better to say nothing.

Repeating the phrase, "It's just my opinion."
Followed with, "I could be wrong."
Has proven insufficient.

Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected
But as of yet none have turned out better.
This upsets.

People become angry when I am correct.
They are less angry when I'm silent.
I tell the truth and trouble follows.

I didn't get sober to lie so I keep my mouth shut.
There is no reason to distress folks
And reality has a way of doing that.

Silence is my new defense
I hide in it
And find my new freedom.

Unless it's my sponsor, my sponsee or my cherished friend
Battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest
And spare others their outburst.

The Bag

January 5

THE BAG

I saw a bag at the top of a tall tree. Full of air, the wind pushing it; it rocked back and forth, held by the stub of a branch. It is so beautiful, so lucky, so blessed.

My sponsor frowns. “Beautiful, yes,” she says. “Lucky and blessed? Convince me.”

“The bag is lucky; it could be on my doorknob, holding garbage. Blessed? It’s free, not a care in the world, supported aloft by the strength of the tree.

“Inside your house, it’s warm. Holding garbage is useful. Lucky to be out in the cold, no purpose, no one needing your help? Blessed? Caught on a tree, trapped, sharp twigs everywhere ready to shred you, beaten by the wind?”

“You're playing devil's advocate.”

“ I do it well. What are you playing? You want to be free. What is free? You want to know for sure you’re on the right path. You think the bag knows?”

“If I were the bag, I might be mad. I might condemn the forces filling me so full I can only feel the force itself. I might be exhilarated, overtaken, free from responsibility. I might feel isolated, unstable 40 feet in the air. I might feel punished, abandoned, dismissed. I could feel a thousand different things.”

“And on the days the wind doesn’t blow?”

“Oh.”

Imitate all the animal calls you know

*

Time’s Temperament

Bubbling tides of white water,

time roils past me and my protests go unheard.

Physic feedback loops revisits raw moments

to me with inopportune exactitude.

The beautiful droplets of dawn rain down

then evaporate leaving another day’s timeline

to fan out before me.

The alternating fury and jubilation

of passing intervals leaves a challenge,

first a question of bend or break,

second a call to forecast.

Can I flex or will I live in pieces?

Shall I look at patterns

and strive for harmonious waltz

or turn my face from the calendar dreading each trice?

Bully or benefactor time rolls.

I can go with it or be under it that choice is mine.