The Order

March 25

THE ORDER

I can’t expect delivery if I haven’t placed the order.  I never seem to know what I want until after I have accepted something else.  I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement---set the table, not end my hunger.  I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire.  Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments.  Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping not management or conservation.  It’s good to have a plan before signing the requisition.  Please help me know who I am, so I will know what I want, so I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack.  Don’t let me order the end while I am still at the beginning.

Self-respect is the gift you bring to everyone.

*

Whirly Gigs

Pivot points and reference points

subtlety disguised as harmless bric-a-brac

escape my comprehension until I either stumble

or land on one or the other and ponder the affect.

Realization that much of my life’s contentment

hinges like a door shocks me,

though I don’t know why it should.

Isn’t it the way of things that it all turns on a whim

or at the very least hangs on fine gauged calculation?

I am not the capricious vixen I accuse myself of;

I am however human

and given to a certain amount of fickle fussy frenzy

which all reckons out given enough perspective and wit.

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

Where do I live?

October 18

Where do I live?

Fleeter of foot is my goal.  I race to catch the prize thoroughbreds as they flee.  I play chase, I win, I lose, I fall in the mud, I break my leg.  None of this does anything for the horses either, they are loose and confused; off like a shot, but nowhere to go.  I buy better shoes, hire a trainer, put reflective tack on the stallions and the mares.  In short I go broke.  I had the world of possibilities before me and it ran away; all because I don’t close the barn door.

Sometimes raise your value by stooping

*

OPEN HEARTED GRIEF

Tell a tale of openhearted grief
And closed-minded terror
Bend the limits of misery.

Pour over the damned feelings and tired excuses
Level the cupful of measured terrene
And wipe the drooling face of denial.

The children will not dance tonight
The grass is wet with their tears.
The dogs circle the encampment of desire
And come to sleep when we are settled.

Silly ruffled whimsy won’t carry the freight
But the bus pulls into the drowsy station
Filled with tea lites and pantomime.

The story will close with a hand on the doorknob of hope
An eye on the jelly sandwich of contentment.
Whisper the lullaby to the ones who stay to hear it.

Morning cracks the shell to daytime.
Shattered pieces litter the night
Tremors shade my peace of mind.
Sum up the analogies of broken hearts and twisted minds.

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