My Experiences with Tennis

April 12

My Experiences with Tennis

I have held the racket, I have hit the ball, but I have never played with a partner.  I have slammed the fuzzy orb against the wall for long years now, but I have never had a mate.  There were times when I had opponents; yes I’ve had a couple of those, a collaborator though, that I have never had.  I have learned to overcome opposition either through wile or guile.  Slugged my way toward some inevitable outcome, I never expected you on my court.  The game we play is for keeps and the muscles required I have never used, I ache from the pain of ending an atrophy imposed on me by isolation and misunderstanding.  Often I don’t know how to stand, don’t know how to act; don’t know how to be the equal to your service.  I play chase, running after the thing I didn’t see and only faintly felt.  I have come to the place where I know, you and I are a team; you will not be leaving looking for someone better equipped or with greater experience.  It is time for me to lay out in front of you my host of tendencies and inclinations. I’m in the habit of overwhelming with my strength to hide my weakness; I must expose this all to you, the strength and the weakness, and work together for the resolution. I will no longer pretend that I know what is right and wrong in this un-played game.  I fear that I will lose the old game by making this change, all that is familiar put up for grabs to the uncertain outcome of paired sports.  All I truly know is that with you by my side I can never lose and I will learn to do whatever it takes to be your wife.

                                     

Dream with an open mind

*

SOLIDITY

Apprehension stands in the archeological site

Which is my life -----listening

Listening for the rumble of a cement truck to come

And help solidify the shifting and tenuous nature of my existence

A wet and sloppy solution

A solution to be raked and smoothed, covered and cured

Something to build a monument on

Or a place to park my car

The nearby grass looks lush and green

But I dare not leave apprehension alone or it spreads

I stand with it on bad days

And against it on good ones

I pray for the mixer to arrive

Or at least the gravel spreader

I need to fill this hole so it can be a life

And stop being a grave.

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

Katie's Wish

February 20

Katie’s Wish

Does G-d arrange for my parking spot, foil the Colts opponents, release the stains from my dry-cleaning?   Can I ask for the petty and pedantic? All One G-d Faith, reads the side of the soap bottle, but really is there only one?  Like Santa?  The Tooth Fairy?  OZ?  Is my life better or worse for the whimsy?  How would I know?  Why would I care? As long as I live with what I get most times, it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes, I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year.  I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy. 

Open your mind more often than seems necessary

*

FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE

What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation
The relationships I stand on to reach with tippy toed grasp
The light of heaven
Flutter by like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed.

My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines
To hold up the sail of hope.
Togetherness the banner of life,
Bonds to strength, protection, from outside and within.

I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm
I am met with a tug of war
Which ends in the mud.
Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus.

Forever rings in my head.
Promises I have made to myself
Promises I have made to others
Promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow.

Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging
Sustaining life and carrying away familiarity.
Forever is not as long as it used to be.
I can live with that, have to live with that.

I shake my fist at the sky
But it won't make love last.
It will not keep my heart from loving again.
Sails which have filled before will fill again.

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

Hand Me Down Pain

January 6

Hand Me Down Pain

You have sent a cold thing into my heart it causes my feet to move me away from you.  It need not be spoken of this is a thing of ice and lead.  Words are no help here, action is the only cure.  Eternity can be spent with a soul bisected by slivers.  Stepping the willing way to joy and freedom seems so unlikely from this frosty local.  Make my mind up I must.  Close my eyes and move forward.  I will leave your pain behind me I hope not to have to leave you.

Kiss tiny pebbles and roll them away

~

HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES

I cannot get my mind wrapped around the places I find help.
I struggle with believing I have been helped.
I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance.
I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen.
I realize now I was injured by the same tiny things.
When I was misaligned with my Higher Power
The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness
It makes my whole day.
The air hanging around just in case I need it,
Which I often do.
The people who live with me, a mean feat.
The people who work with me.
Those who exist here with me keep my ship on course,
How sweet of them to do mostly right everyday of their lives,
What a help that is.
The whole ecosystem and all the weather
What would I do without it?
But this is on a good day,
On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes and scorching my skin,
The air is too still, or well, the wind is always a problem.
And people, people are an endless plight,
People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me,
Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed.
Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud,
Everyday, all day, lurking.

I AM SO THANKFUL FOR A SPONSOR AND A TENTH STEP

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/475YWS01jBM

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

Coocoo's Nest

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST

I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me.  The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion.  Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain.  The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night.  The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild.  The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.

Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

*

Home Fires Burning

I have trouble living with myself,

that is why I live with you.

It takes my mind off the things I don’t wish to face.

What I can busy myself within your service

lightens the load of expectation heaped in my DNA

by my Higher Power and Fate.

Worry is time consuming

and I wile away hours fretting over you

and all your unresolved trifles

while turning my back entirely on my life.

I couldn’t be happier to have you,

though from the corner of my eye

I glimpse God packing your bags.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/EPIQNgKAmmY

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

Like Peace

November 24

LIKE PEACE

Peace, like an elephant on my chest; I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting.  The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line, stiff but dry.  Plastered smiles and short salutations get us through until bedtime, but what we can hold in standing up pours out lying down.  Tender feelings are compressed and come out only as water.  Anger bubbles and brews.  Disappointment lives down deep and sours the milk of love.  There are things worse than cross words.  Moldering, festering, frozen words pound spikes in a relationship fraught with apprehension.  The truth is I would let these pent-up things out, but I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me.

See through time.

*

How I’ve come upon the World.

My first exposure to Bogart

was as the man who was after Bugs Bunny,

and Lauren Bacall was only referred to as Baby.

I only ever heard Kaw Liga because

Stephen King referenced it too often

and I had to go have a listen.

I come through the back door on so much of the world

and it has served me rather well.

Yes, I often feel ignorant,

but at least the knowledge never sees me coming

and I get the drop on it.

There is a quality to not having been spoon-fed,

that keeps me sharp and allows for depth.

The universe sends me clues and I go investigate.

It cuts down on the agendaed learning of the social norms

and cuts me a wide swath beyond the common path.

There are times when conformity is key;

then again it’s a sweet thing to have a choice.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/vOk4ICNxMiE

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

Jellyfish and Peanut Butter Cards

November 22

JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS

Jellyfish and peanut butter cards make for busy days and cheerful nights, sunlit at the beach and lantern light filled with double-decker solitaire.  Camping as a way of life suits some as they run from their lives.  For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat.  To the overly invested, camping is an aberration, a threat to the foundations of civilization as we know it.  I can take a bit of sand in my hair, smoke in the air.  Though I do dread the feeling of coming back to the life I love and feeling like a stranger.  Temporary disengagement estranges me from the place, the things, the dog.  I need time away, variety of experience, expanded horizons.  I need my entrenched home life.  I need it all and must accept the clock never stops running anyplace on the planet even if I am enjoying a good game with sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war.

Don’t break your wishbone.

*

One and One

The person who has nothing is vague.

The person who has too much alludes.

And these people may falsely mistake one another

for kindred

when what you draw your conclusions from

are the poems and sweet words,

which flow out of these divergent folk.

A paper house is built, but the living is impossible.

Tying strings to dreams doesn’t permit you

to fly away to fairylands it just leaves you prone

to lightening strikes and long wet wicks.

What could be the truth unfolded;

spread broadly for all to see?

Where could the roads so very far apart

lead to a home, a hearth, a life?

Or is this just a field of fantasy flowers blooming in our minds?

Mist is vapor pretending at a marriage

to a world it will soon evaporate and leave.

You and I are passing ships on a short sad night.

Vlog:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSJYcDs6BWE&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

Timely

November 17

TIMELY

Spend a minute to rub the sleep gently from your eyes.

Spend an hour smoothing lotion from one end to the other.

Spend a day in tribute to the gifts you give and gifts given you.

Spend a week researching your goals, dreams and hopes.

Spend a month routing energy to a viable flow.

Spend a year studying truth.

Spend a life living it.

Your life is worth all the time you have.

Take it.

Balance doubt and dreams.

*

Human Sacrifice

How much does it have to cost me

in order for you to feel better?

Why is it that my suffering improves your mood?

Does it confirm for you that you are not alone

when you are feeling scared?

Or does it give you the sense

that at least you’re not as pitiful as me?

Is it pleading that strikes a chord,

is it the animal pain which stirs your compassion?

What about this scenario completes the cycle for you

to be able to move back to your comfort zone?

What happens if I don’t fall to pieces?

If I hold my emotions to my chest,

take them to my sponsor,

in some way keep them from your hungry eyes?

Will you move on and leave me behind?

Will you climb over the hurdle

which currently stands between us?

Or will you store away this bitter thing

like a rotten nut hidden by a Secret Squirrel?

Youtube Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9bRzQNkulA&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

Detail Days

November 7

DETAIL DAYS

Detail days seem like lost, soulless days.  I sort the piles of endless junk mail; catch up on bills, letters, laundry.  I don’t leave the house, but in some way I feel like I’m not in my home.  It’s like a day of pulling out all the needles, splinters and thorns that accumulate under my skin from rough weeks and road rash.  I steel myself to the pain of relief and rescue.  Cleared counters, emptied baskets, finished worry lists leave me with that newly moved in feel.  Piles overwhelm me, but sometimes, details define me.

Can-can in your head.

*

Thief in the Night

The moon ran off the night you left.

Instead of west it headed south with you,

but I doubt it will stay.

You are learning to play a new part,

another ill-suited role

which I don’t believe you will carry off

with much aplomb,

Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique

You may have found yourself

a kinder critic or a more likened mind.

What you have taken I can’t expect to return,

but what I have gained I will never give up.

I don’t think you ever intended me any harm,

but protection is something you never provided;

something which I was sorely in need of.

I was fortunate to return to the house of my father

for that is the shelter in which I can breathe.

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

Leaves in a Pile

October 30

LEAVES IN A PILE

As a great pile of dry leaves, lay the problem.  Running through it to show my disrespect accomplishes nothing but to scatter my dilemma and widen the area of distress.  Covering and composting only allows the burden to indwell, leaching into that which feeds my soul.  Burning puts it in the air I breathe.  There is no galaxy far off enough to keep its reflection from my face.  Attack, flight, banishment?  No!  Insulation, conversion, contortion?  No!  I pursue none of these; I can not control things exterior.  I can not feed my power, light and life into the pile.  I have only one goal: not to become the problem.  Not to dry or dehydrate.  Not to fall from my hope and collect in the road.  My goal is to hold fast to hope and serve as conduit and companion to a life bigger than mine alone.

Practice little words like ‘oh’, and ‘hum’

*

Entrenched

I have dug myself a trench

and invited my friends and family.

Truth is, I drug many and tricked others

and there they are in the trench

I have so recently climbed out of.

It is a nasty place and I feel horribly responsible,

but here is the sacred truth;

I can’t climb down there again,

not even on a rescue mission.

I am obligated to help them, this is for sure,

but the fact still remains that it is not safe

to get into the water with a drowning person,

even if I am the one who caused the drowning.

If I am to be of any help at all I must get my footing

and keep it safely on the bank

and only then might I be able to throw down a rope

or lend a hand to anyone, especially those I love.

I pray for the sturdy stance of helpful strangers

and try my best to cause no further harm,

more than that will have to wait

until my cleats are soundly lodged into the earth

and my head is squarely upon my shoulders,

for headlong and mud covered I am no help.

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

Works

September 24

WORKS

I cry the waterworks so necessary to the healing of my heart.  I explode with the fireworks required for anger to set living boundaries.  I sleep the sleep of angels, as I link to dreamworks allowing mental maintenance to occur.  Slipping into my political face I make time for public works.  I return to my abode, call the pie maker and order ‘the works.’  Have it delivered so I can face the mountain of homework waiting for me and bearing my name.

Suggest solutions in your diary.

*

No Dialing Tonight.

When it is late at night and I can’t sleep

I wander and putter and plan my dreams.

I hold out hopes and wash their faces;

pray for rain and clean all traces.

Thunderstorms rumble and lightning strikes;

I tune up the plumbing and wipe down the pipes.

All the paint and promises in the world won’t change me;

I’m still lost in the dark without you.

Tear stains are friendly till I wash them away

leaving blotchy eyes that can’t be explained;

an aching heart that keeps on ticking

and wishes that can’t come true.

Sunday morning is here, too soon

and life rolls on whether you think it should.

Tiny thoughts come out to play

and sad, sad fears keep them at bay.

But the dog is curled up under the covers without a care;

I long to disturb her but do not dare.

She is the queen here and I’m but the naïve;

I’ll tend to my writing and try to be brave.

For the dawn will follow this endless nocturne;

the whole world will be safe once more.

I will cry but it’s all too late;

though you are merely a phone call away.

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

Forever isn't as long as it used to be

August 22

FOREVER IS NOT AS LONG AS IT USED TO BE

What time gives in permanence it takes in fluctuation.  The relationships I stand on to reach, with tippy-toed grasp, the light of heaven flutter like flounder disturbed from their sandy bed.  My mind probes the past looking for the shroud lines to hold up the sails of hope.  Togetherness, the banner of life, bonds to strength, protection from outside and within.  I yearn for a life of love, unbending and calm.  I am met with the tug of war, which ends in mud.  Days stretch into years but years are no protection from terminus.  Forever rings in my head.  Promises I have made to myself, promises I have made to others, promises made to me are nothing in the face of the promise of tomorrow.  Time flows like air over a row of seedlings, fresh and challenging, sustaining life and carrying away familiarity.  Forever is not as long as it used to be.  I can live with that, have to live with it.  I can shake my fist to the sky but it won’t make love last.  It will not keep my heart from loving again.  Sails, which have filled before, will fill again.

Love yourself green or blue or pink.

*

Up to Date

The future is a prison I escape by staying in today.

The tiny windows which open to strange foreknowledge

have barbs rather than bars and inflict painful wounds

when I attempt too close examination.

My business is here and now; the currency like manna,

good only for the duration of the day and nothing further.

Pretty dreams and colossal disaster float as baubles on the horizon

but I need to take down my focus from such far off vistas;

adjusting the optics for a clear view of where I am standing.

Circumscription is what the destiny becomes

when I try to live in it too soon.

Novelty is what it is to be living in the very moment

I am currently breathing in.

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

I Know

August 11

I KNOW

I know more than I understand.  I know more than I let on.  I know right from wrong, left from right, uphill from down.  I know you have my best interest at heart.  I know I often don’t.  I know it hurts when I fall but holding on isn’t easy.  I know that wanting is not needing and needing is not enough.  I know old thinking breeds old action but new thinking is often wild and requires two minds for review.  I know to look three ways before crossing the street because trouble sometimes hits head on.  I know that if life is the question yes is the answer.

Instruct the youth living within.

*

T before S

When happiness is hard work

I have to learn to look for the lie.

There must be a lie, for happiness flows

unrestrained when not dammed.

What was built too far up river for me to see,

dries out my once liquid existence;

leaving me to flounder in the shallows.

I can’t allow myself to flop in the muck

of waters muddied with deceit.

I will permit myself to look for clear bright prospects

from melting glaciers and accustom myself to the invigoration

of a life lived under a loving watchful eye.

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

Mortification

August 10

MORTIFICATION

Lime with envy, I built a wall around.  Love and hate are enclosed, brick and stone.  Rigor of extremities, the discipline of ages falls so short.  I make no in-depth connections; I coat externals with glue, stack reactions and let the bombs fly.  I mix and crush old habits and bad ideas, make a paste.  I am setting myself up again.  Abstinence becomes the pestle of bludgeoning and abasement.  I am hard and I am hollow; with wounded pride, I subjugate my soul.  My life is reduced to a powder.  I am mortified.

Spread oil from your navel out.

*

Michal Rovner

I have numbered all the blocks in my ancestral walls.

This has enabled me to recreate them

stone by stone everywhere I go.

It all fits to create the tomb I now have to learn to leave.

I must change the equation and reorder the numbers

allowing these rocks to be recycled

and find a wonderful useful life

as a stairway out of this pit of despair.

What was once an edifice to lives unlived

is now able to facilitate elevation,

a restoration of a level playing field.

It was not wrong for me to catalog the stone

and there was no way for me to leave them behind,

but nothing matches the satisfaction of using them to build a life,

except for the ability to live in it.

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

Presto!

August 7

PRESTO!

Just because I own pointy boots doesn’t mean I can corral the cows.  I have in my possession many things of subtle intent, but they can’t just transform me.  The wings from Halloween don’t make me an angel.  The Big Book on the shelf won’t sober me up. Nothing holds the magic to change me.  I can only change with help.  Action, action and more action is the magician's sleight of hand.  It slides my hand from glass to grace.  I don’t need to pull a rabbit from my hat.

Play with your oatmeal.

*

I Beg

The embarrassment of need

is a haunting guest who will not leave.

I turn in a tight circle trying to find a way

to detach  this wart and move gracefully

from the site of devastation.

But it looms large

and overshadows today’s possibilities

and robs tomorrows gold.

What I cannot do for myself,

the magic I cannot yet perform,

stands between me and contentment.

It stands there wearing your face;

touching my mind with your fingertips.

I pray that you are not the answer

for I cannot depend on you.

I think of you and the little bell rings

and I am hungry.

Desire is a gift, desiring you is the burden

whose shadow I cannot escape.

I close my eyes to the light you emit;

I cannot close my heart, all that’s left is pleading;

please come home and fill me or leave

and lock the door and let me grieve in peace.

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

Far Off Places

July 18

FAR OFF PLACES

Meetings too near home are unsatisfying to me.  On smooth, simple days local meetings are fine; I catch a meeting, just slip it in.  On rough days I yearn for an out of town meeting.  After these many 24’s I’ve come to realize I need the ride as much as I need the meeting.  Like a discontented baby I need more than just a trip around the block.  The comfort of taking flight in my car is equaled by arriving at some far off AA. Fresh faces and new-takes-on-old-woes are an antidote to my colicky attitude.  The drive back offers me a sense of triumphant homecoming.  A good meeting can be had anywhere.  Sometimes I just need a change of place or change of pace.

Keep a lock of your own hair.

*

Cicatrix and Love

The mark left by injury is indelible

though it may heal, the consequence remains.

This is also true of love.

I am branded and changed by your affection.

The improvement wrought in me does not leave when you do.

If you stop loving me,

can you no longer remember my name,

 my face,

my sigh;

I am better for having had your love if only for a short time.

Good medicine offers lasting results;

the miracle of your love is my health.

The blush in my cheek,

the revitalization I feel is traceable to you,

to the days you held me in your heart

and the nights you held me in your arms.

And though I want you back in my world

the best of you lives on in my life.

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

Magic Wand

July 16

MAGIC WAND

“Why are you wearing that hat and waving that star studded stick?"  I asked my sponsor.

“Isn’t this what you want, a magic wand?” she replied.

“Whatever are you talking about?  I don’t want you to play wizard.”

“Don’t you?  You thought walking into your first meeting would------poof-----make you all better.  When that didn’t work, you held your breath for 90 days.  When that also proved a disappointment, you let the air out of your blue face and started the white-knuckle routine for one year.  At the end of twelve months, you released your arthritic grip and started scheming for a new sponsor.  But the new wicked witch sent you scurrying back to me.  Then, it was a relationship with undying love that would break the spell you are under.  Now tell me again how you don’t want me to use this magic wand on you?” said my sponsor with aplomb.

“I guess my behavior gave me away.  Go ahead, say your incantation.”  I closed my eyes and waited for her words.

“Show up and do the work.  Keep an open mind,” she said as she waved the cudgel.

“That’s it?"  I asked.

“Well, yes, but I have to come back every day,” she grinned.

Set the table for breakfast just before your midnight snack.

*

Rounder

Back again, yes, that I see,

but change is not the same as return.

What I know of you is your past.

I believe the past because I know it.

If there is a new you to meet

that remains to be seen.

Even a chameleon sheds its skin,

though I doubt its intrinsic nature

is altered much in the process.

So flash your smile and wind your words

into the thoughts of those with whom

you have no history.

I’ve been exposed before,

the virus doesn’t conquer me, I am immune.

Once bitten makes me wary

when you come around again.

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

Reclamation Artist

June 27

RECLAMATION ARTIST

I stand over the refuse can and peer in; I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards.  I have so much trouble accepting there is no reclaiming most of this ever-growing mass.  There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet.  I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets.  I want to make a new world from the old, save past relationships and make them somehow fresh.  I don’t want to drown.  I fear I can’t think fast enough to keep the wave from breaking over us all.  I will maintain an open mind and be grateful my life was retrieved from the dustbin.  I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost.  I was once lost, too.

Read your favorite book one page a day.

*

When I rise up and when I lay down

In order to be happy with you

I have to learn to be happy without you.

I gasp at the pain of it

I desperately wish that the above statement were not true,

but alas, you are gone in a way that I can never reclaim you

and to hold on to what of you is still tentatively available

I must release my frightened grasp.

A wisp of smoke is not the bonfire of our past,

but it is what remains and I breathe it in as best I can.

Immediately I realize I am holding on again.

I breathe you out, let you go.

I want to run screaming throwing you from my bonds,

yet another of my attempts at control.

So, now it’s time to pray.

Not a prayer to get my way, not a prayer to make you stay,

not a prayer to make you gone, just a prayer to live on my own.

God help me please to live my life,

Please guide me away from strife.

I am lost and cannot find my way,

Father, hold me till the light of day.

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

Bottle the Acid

June 11

BOTTLE THE ACID

My sponsor said to bottle the acid and so I did.  I sat back in smug reflection until the plumbing backed up.  I grabbed the fast solution and poured it down the drain.  My sponsor smiled as I learned the baser things will eat my life away, too.  I can never just decant power and expect it to sweep clean the clogged pathways in my recovery.  Sloshing caustic medicine into open orifices brought me here.  I long for the ease of a liquid resolution.  In the end, I must clean the pipes myself.  The traps are simpler to cleanse the less I’ve lied.  Telling myself I don’t have to get my hands or heart dirty is the biggest lie of all.

Eat lunch with relish.

*

Sanitized

All the water in the well, gone dry, belongs to me.

Such an offer, how could I refuse?

I stand as near the edge as I can get

and try my best to peer, is the goldfish alive?

For you see this is still my best hope,

you, the source are also my wishing well,

more than just survival you are prospect, neigh dream.

You say that what’s left is mine,

but you think of it as incidental, not a need, merely a want.

Someplace deep, beyond where you admit,

you know that life is dependent on desire,

but will play mine off as casual

when it becomes inconvenient to your drives and blindness.

Eunuchs do not immediately perish,

but you must confess they do not live.

I stand here a lock to which there is no longer a key

and whether I am open or closed it doesn’t matter

for the partnership of change is desecrated

and I do not care for a waterless solution.

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

Dance of Death

June 10

DANCE OF DEATH

Honeyed words pour from painted lips; shades of doubt color my mind.  Stained glass eyes look to blank walls and picture the gallery of imagination, attempting to sell it for hard currency.  Sirens sing from the throats of mute men; the screams which rise in me fall on deaf ears.  Paradox feeds controversy but it needn’t.  Evolution from a cesspool is repugnant though progress is steadily made.  Inertia is violent if that is from whence it came.  Afterbirth is always bloody and humans not always nice.  I must live and heal as others climb up and slide down.  I must keep the beat and forget the dance of death.

Float your expectations and check for daggers underneath.

*

Dido

Either I can have a bad relationship that I never wanted

or no relationship and the painful isolation of having been lied to,

deceived by someone who, in theory, should have been trustworthy.

You are off to war and I am agape

not having realized until too late that you are a soldier.

The fact is that one of these things will occur;

you will be killed by a machine which cares nothing for you

and sees you as its enemy or destroyed by the organization

that sees you as its own.

Or you will throw yourself on your sword

and keep from bothering anyone else with this task.

There is no scenario where you are the One you promised me you’d be.

No homecoming, no welcoming arms to hold me.

I stand on the sidewalk,

a garbage pail of cold water poured over my shock and dismay.

To my grief you say that you have heard it all before,

so why did you set me up to say it all again?

I am heart stricken and cut in a place to obvious to hide

and too hidden to speak of.

You have no time to talk, no aid to give, no love to spare.

I thought I was yours, but see that I have been swept from your life

by the flood of a large gauge hose and water of questionable origin.

Everything is wet but nothing is clean.

This is an unholy act and I am defeated and living in Carthage

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

Three Roosters

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS

The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow.  The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition.  Those of us in the fray are like picked-on-puppies who learn slowly not to put our heads up to spare our eyes and hearts.  The same noise comes repeatedly.  Suspicion is never aroused; the heads nod at all the right places, orchestrated for ego and nothing else.  The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer for the still suffering in and out of the room.  I pray that will be enough.

Tour your past but leave at closing time.

*

Abraxas

I was waiting for a magic person

and then you appeared.

I was dazzled;

I was under your spell.

In an attempt to prove myself

your natural assistant I sawed me in two.

Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet

and promptly disappeared.

I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you,

but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.

The world around me melted at your entrance

and I flowed down the drain along with it.

I somehow expected a response from you,

but why respond to an empty room?

So, I will plug back into myself and power up.

Power draws power

and I will see if I can draw you once again.

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