Frozen Strawberries

May 30

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.

“I’m sure you do.  When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.

“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready.  I don’t want them to go to waste.”

“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller.  Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?  I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”

“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?"  I ask her.

“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”

Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.

*

I’m not Brian

I thought life was based on a system of

‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.

Then I would be horrified when you suffered,

after I had already done so ahead of you.

In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see

who had broken the pact, you or me.

Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?

Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?

Panic gives birth to blame

and blame of course births nasty biting things

that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.

Now the goals I tend are to end the breeding

of those sharp and painful beasties,

stop laying my neck upon the alter

and start telling better jokes.

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

NaCl

May 21

NaCl

I work arithmetic instead of telling you to stop.  I make a light remark, never take a stand until I have worked the numbers and believe that the weight of suffering is on my side.  I store in the cellar the salt I found in my wounds and label it with, names, dates and corresponding critique, all waiting, hoping, I will never need to disclose them, but keeping them accounted for just in case things go badly.  I believe there is no chance for error with silence and no wrong when I have backup in the basement, but I need to table the salt and risk my reality.  You can’t hurt me worse than I do when I pour old salt and create new wounds.

Bang the drum, expect a sound

*

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

I have them in the freezer, I tell my sponsor

I’m sure you do, when are you going to take them out

And reenact spring, she retorts.

I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready

I don’t want them to go to waste.

Oh the Excuse Maker, the Staller

Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?

I thought you were going to defrost the strawberries.

Fear, you’re saying, Fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability I ask her?

Eat the strawberries or not

But it seems to me you didn’t get sober

To avoid the sweeter things in life

Keeping all your goodness locked up

In the deep freeze

Destined for frost bite.

Frozen Strawberries

May 30

FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

“I have them in the freezer,” I tell my sponsor.

“I’m sure you do.  When are you going to take them out and reenact spring?” her retort.

“I don’t want to take them out before I’m ready.  I don’t want them to go to waste.”

“Oh, the Excuse Maker, the Staller.  Are you going to drag all the old chestnuts out of the closet?  I thought you were going to defrost strawberries.”

“Fear, you’re saying fear of strawberries is not a sign of stability?"  I ask her.

“Eat the strawberries or not, but it seems to me you didn’t get sober to avoid the sweeter things in life, keeping all your goodness locked up in the deep freeze destined for frost bite.”

Let sunshine climb in your eyes and fall upon your heart.

*

I’m not Brian

I thought life was based on a system of

‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.

Then I would be horrified when you suffered,

after I had already done so ahead of you.

In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see

who had broken the pact, you or me.

Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?

Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?

Panic gives birth to blame

and blame of course births nasty biting things

that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.

Now the goals I tend are to end the breeding

of those sharp and painful beasties,

stop laying my neck upon the alter

and start telling better jokes.