Prize Catch

June 11

Prize Catch

There is a reason that fish flap and twist when they are caught, why even though they are in the air they fight for the life that once was theirs, only martyrs go without a fight, it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine.  When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change, there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for.  Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me.  It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense.  My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight.

Turn confusion until its smooth

*

THE PALMIST

Last night I had a silly dream.

I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table

Held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said

“Today you will go to a meeting which will save your life”

I thanked her and left full of anticipation.

When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation

I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation.

I paid close attention to the coffee maker,

Those setting up chairs with me and the newcomer

I listened carefully to the speakers

And the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer

Nothing out of the ordinary happened

Other than my realization that

Every meeting saves my life.

What is Dear?

September 24

What is Dear?

I am angry that I was taught I must hold on for dear life instead of being taught that life is dear, but they couldn’t teach me what they didn’t know and couldn’t know what they had not discovered for themselves. I wish I had learned earlier to love the life I was taught to cling to, but I am grateful I have been bound to life long enough to find the joy in it. I have found that knowing joy causes me to cling all the more, cling in sweetness to what was once such a bitter task. I am angry for what I wasn’t taught, but sadder still for what they didn’t know and all that is lost in their lives to ignorance and tradition. I wanted better for them and they wanted better for me and this is the circle which closes around the dear that I hold onto.

Make room for running starts

*

FRUSTRATING IMPROVEMENT

Improvement is frustrating, lonely and yet exhilarating.

It somehow starts with moths in the stomach

And ends with warm soup satisfaction.

Struggling, waiting, followed by further struggle

Progress made by tugging one string then the other.

It is hard to accept scaling the ropes alone

But tottering assent is always this way.

Once at the top I realize how easily I could slide to the bottom

Sometimes friction is all that keeps me up.

Establishing a new altitude is challenging.

I must ground myself in a new way.

My talents hinder and aid me.

I must open the correct doors in my mind

And avoid the traps in the floor.

Stuttering through requirements and obligations

I transform but only slowly.

Earning each drop of comfort from a job just done.

Michal Rovner

August 10

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 stones 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.

Take a look at yourself from a distance

*

THE SEDUCTION OF SOBRIETY

I was seduced away from my duties

As an alcoholic by the promise of sobriety,

Allegiance to my disease was sidelined.

Alluring stability and beguiling integrity

Curried favor with my desperate heart,

Pulling me from the arranged marriage of addiction.

How could I cling to the corpse of dependence

When sanity shimmered just out of reach,

Then not out of reach but within my grasp.

I couldn’t resist the golden flicker of life.

I had been bound to death

Unable to see an alternative.

My loyalty to loss and grief slipped from me

And I limped into the daylight,

Like the widow of the night.

I have been lured to my senses

By a love like no other,

The love of life.