January 17
IN THE COMFORT OF MY ROOM
I sit and panic concerning the future. I have come through hell, built a safe and
satisfying life, but it will all end soon.
I can feel it. The tide rises in
my soul, the blood red tide of self-doubt and degradation. I fail to see my strength, or
intelligence. Hell, I can’t even
remember the sheer willingness, which has carried me this far. All I see are shreds, tattered little bits of
my hopes and dreams, scattered by the breeze of fate.
What is the point of me being in this sweet space if I’m
going to intellectually turn it to a dungeon?
Why set out fluffy pillows only to frighten myself daily with thoughts
of their removal? How can I pray for
safety and practice personal terrorism?
With an open mind? No! My mind is closed to the double side of
life. I know the destruction but forget
the glory. I have washed ashore in the
land of love and support. I need not
drag my mind and spirit to the nether world of hopelessness. I’ve been to the dark places. My task is to warm in the sunlit today.
Make an anagram of
your name, which empowers you.
*
Hades
There is strangeness to the dark.
A velvety comfort
when my paranoia is not alive
with ice crystals and contempt.
Cocoons of light create hives of life
in an otherwise isolating phenomena.
Pressing to my skin I can wear the night out
as a jewel, a talisman for the hope I dare not share.
Pixies and faeries inhabit dawn’s wee hours
but the black blank stretch of space
is home to things quite different.
Unspeakable in their face I allow them to pass.
Should I be carried off my return is eminent
for half the seeds remain.
Not wholly ransomed I live only part time in the sun.
When the shadows fall there is the oddness of home
I can neither embrace nor deny.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
