Mud Pies

March 7

MUD PIES

Mud pies and retro-childhood are for the hurt ones, small and angry inside me.  They require care and special attention, but I can’t stop with them.  Saving the children to starve the adolescents is a sad fate, and abandoning adults after bringing them all this long way would be indescribably cruel.  I cannot work on healing all the while waiting for some ice floe to shove myself off on.  There is never a time when I am not the responsible party for the people who inhabit my interior life.  I live their reflection every day; there is no one-way mirror with which to hide unresolved issues, no rug to sweep them under; they flow through me like a river.  I must return to them to breed new health as a salmon swims back to the waters of its birth to bring new life.  I must brave the complexities of maturity; I cannot just sit in the mud.

Make a truce with your fears.

*

The Price of Today’s Ride

Much of my spiritual awakening has been spent

separating myself from the nightmare of the past,

reassuring myself that in fact, it, the horror, is over.

As my present has improved my reactions

are still invested with the hide or fly coping

of a child dealing with terror.

Things get better yet barricades are erected,

departing flights secured.

Disengaging the clutch of fingers wrapped so tightly

around the escape hatch takes a great deal of my

short supply of faith and confidence.

Laying down my anticipatory reluctance

in favor of optimism has had the breathtaking feel of pain,

though in fact it was only the separation

from a poisonous crutch and the vacuum it creates.

Allowing myself to see beauty

at the same time as I deal with the truth of the past;

standing in the full light of morning

and not blocking out the brilliant pain of night

is the outstanding gift my spiritual path affords me.

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

No Dialing Tonight

September 25

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.

Find the place where noise and music intersect

*

ALARM CLOCK

The dream killer plays its harsh tones.

I pull my lids, so unwilling to wake.

The tip of my tongue dry to leather

Welcomes the wet of my toothbrush

I grin a foaming smile.

I run through my night travels

I mentally wander the highlights

Ponder the implications and meanings.

Dressed, with open door breeze in my face

I leave nighttime escapades

For daytime pandemonium.

The only thing I won’t leave behind

Is the last image before the gong sounded.

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

Sleep Tight

August 4

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?  Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?  Or twist the sheets as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?  Are night time wrestlings an indication of decadent day- time activity?  Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?  Possibly something I ate? Thought? Wished for?  I think to myself I should not have gotten into that unmade bed, should have made it up; the bed and my mind, should have straighten out the crumpled mass of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh, but instead  I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed, lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.  What time I might have saved by leveling the playing field and plumping the pillows.  All is not lost, there is always tonight.  Sweet dreams straight ahead.

Throw the ball even if you can’t pitch it

*

NEVER LET GO

When it grows dark on one side of transparency

The other becomes reflective.

When addiction doesn’t hold a flame for me

I see the true face of its results.

Because I know now the destructive possibilities

I must print the picture and post it on the wall.

For the day may come when addiction appears

As a light for me and the mirror will be gone.

I need to keep clear the truth even when my eyes lie to me

And my sensibilities catch on fire.

The glass can be the boundary or the tumbler,

The glare of day can be harsh or bright.

Light is forever shifting

I cannot count on shadows for predictions.

I must know it when I see it, chant it to remember

And hold hands and never let go.

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

Access

August 4

ACCESS

Writing to you, my Sweet, allows me to give what I have available at the moment it comes into my possession.  You reading me lets you invite me in when you are ready or willing, possibly both.  I can store succulent treasure for you without the least consideration of freezer burn or apathy.  You are here when I want you, yearning and prepared.  I am yours for the taking in the classroom, the bedroom, or even in your bath.  I can whisper or shout to you, rant or tell jokes at you.  You can embrace or ignore me, introduce me to friends or keep me your own personal province.  We are intimates because I bare my soul to you and you take me into yours.

Recommend your assets.

*

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?

Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?

Or twist the sheets

as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?

Are night time wrestlings an indication

of decadent daytime activity?

Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?

Possibly something I ate, thought, wished for?

I think to myself,

I should not have gotten into that unmade bed,

should have made it up; the bed and my mind,

should have straighten out the crumpled mass

of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh

But instead  I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed,

lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.

What time I would have saved by leveling

the playing field and plumping the pillows.

All is not lost, there is always tonight.

Sweet dreams straight ahead