Graft

July 27

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 people’s 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.

Subtract your assets from your defects.

*

Un-imbedded

This week I have decided to be braver

about where I invest my time, not all of it mind you

but a portion of my diligent yet strangely unproductive time.

I have to say I am realizing that I hide

in pretty much every area of my life

and that is no way to live

and a really bad example to offer.

The worst thing about hiding is it doesn't keep me safe;

it just subjects me to different evils.

It reminds me of that poor reporter

who was imbedded in a tank.

He died from not moving, his blood pooling and dehydration,

so the tank kept him from getting his head shot off,

but killed him in a different way,

so in the end he wasn't safe and neither am I.

I believe in prudence as a good policy, I do,

but there is much that could make me

stronger, happier, better,

if I lift my head a bit and reach out my hand.

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

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.

Graft

July 27

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 people’s 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.

Subtract your assets from your defects.

*

Un-imbedded

This week I have decided to be braver

about where I invest my time, not all of it mind you

but a portion of my diligent yet strangely unproductive time.

I have to say I am realizing that I hide

in pretty much every area of my life

and that is no way to live

and a really bad example to offer.

The worst thing about hiding is it doesn't keep me safe;

it just subjects me to different evils.

It reminds me of that poor reporter

who was imbedded in a tank.

He died from not moving, his blood pooling and dehydration,

so the tank kept him from getting his head shot off,

but killed him in a different way,

so in the end he wasn't safe and neither am I.

I believe in prudence as a good policy, I do,

but there is much that could make me

stronger, happier, better,

if I lift my head a bit and reach out my hand.

Graft

July 27

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 people’s 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.


Subtract your assets from your defects.