Before Ophelia

July 23

Before Ophelia

Young women drown themselves before Shakespeare immortalized, memorialized Ophelia.  But having a poster child changes us.  Cautionary tale or rallying cry, Ophelia is a hand to hold on dark cold days when the light is hard to find and everything seems bent toward destruction.  Not that I think she solved anything with her despondent act just that she stands in the familiar frame I find myself in from time to time.  When I imagine I’ve invented the wheel it makes it harder to step down and walk.  Ophelia’s fate makes it easier to get off depression’s bus and find my way back home.

Press your excuses for truth

*

TOOTH FAIRY

I slide my hand under the pillow

And am disappointed not to find a quarter.

I feel I deserve one though I didn’t leave a tooth.

I did leave my bite,

I’ve toned down my bark a bit too.

It has not been easy.

I’ve spent much of my life snapping and growling

At the world around me.

I have shortened the leash on these reactive behaviors

Many I have put to bed all together.

Improved conduct is prize enough

But I surely would enjoy a winged visitor

If only just for fun.

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

The Landscape of Words

July 22

The Landscape of Words

Paint takes time to dry; I work with words.  I say azure and you are there with me, even if I am far from this mortal coil, my pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue, as long as you can hear me, read me, see me.  I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together, trapped, til I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe.  I love the flow of watercolor, adore the mushy paste of oil, but nothing beats the world we paint and repaint here on this page.

Explain why frogs don’t have wings

*

GAME PLAYING

My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game.

Doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy.

My trouble is my own.

I pursue trivia at my discretion.

I take or reject risk at will.

I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes

.

But don’t expect to live in a candy land.

When I stick my hand in a mouse trap

Or fall down shoots and need to climb up ladders.

I know the game may not be over

But it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.

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

Rules

July 21

Rules

There are rules about breaking rules.  You can do it this way, but must not that way.  Cross this line and you get dragons; cross that line you get a good natured slap on the wrist.  Beneath the reflective surface of law I have found many shoals and sandbars; rocks and outcroppings, layer upon layer of blue depth I can only partly chart.  I also find inquiries in this matter meet with the same reaction as asking about: yeti, crop circles, or what was kept in Uncle Author’s spare room.  Those willing to talk about it I often fear to hear from and the reluctant to speak I fear to pursue.  You see this investigation is just another thing from under that sea.

Look before you listen

*

MY BABIES

Too often I have abandoned the infants

Of my creativity to doorways and charities

Having little patience I did not raise them

To their intended station.

Joyful parentage need not stop

At the cutting of the cord.

Down playing the importance of each birth

I leave beauty and art to be foundlings

And the province of others.

I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts

And be more than a broodmare for cunning and craft.

I have neglected things

For the promise of each new conception.

Overpopulation weakens the body of work

And leaves my portfolio listless and immature.

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

Taking the Field

July 20

Taking the Field

Humor is an illustration; a joke, an explanation.  I learn far more from the smiles than the jeers.  Laughter carries me; an action, which tears can’t always accomplish.  It is hard to live with constant descent, but wit is a quick impassioned friend.  Thoughtless conformity is an evil companion I prefer the company of those who play.  Life is too hard from the sidelines; I would rather take the field.

Find a pit crew before you crash

*

DEFINITIONS

I am close to my Higher Power

But I have no words to describe It.

I have found it best to say nothing unless asked.

When I do speak it is always the path I took

Or the way I held my face.

I know the things, which changed

And the wind, which blew.

This is not the sketch most people seek.

My skin is brown and my smile broad.

This is not from over exposure to beams of light.

Closeness warms me, I glow from standing near.

I know the face and form is different for everyday

I must not stop for definitions.

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

Rings of Color against Butterflies

July 19

Rings of Color against Butterflies

Resistance I can accomplish directly; impedance requires magnetism from an alternating world.  I can drag my heels and live life in a sandpaper shack making everything a chore, but what it takes to throw furniture in the path of progress, slamming doors and turning off the lights that is more than I can do on my own.  This takes the cooperation of my disease and me, the monkey-hoop, which is effort and clever repartee.  Look how well we do it, too.  Distracting possibilities, staving off humanity and the humane, may not sound like much, but it takes up our whole day; goodness is such a persistent little grub.  It takes a concerted effort to prevent it from chrysalis and failing that, still more determination to make sure it doesn’t fly.   

Listen to music the way you walk through a garden

*

2 CHAIRS

Math is the language which moves

Closest to the speed of my brain.

The language of recovery slows my thinking

So I am more than numbers and clicks.

I need not race my mind in an effort to win.

I am my prize.

The victory is mine if I can embrace who I am.

I can use numbers to figure whether I am more or less

But owning who I am must be given

To the talk of the soul and heart.

My nashamah is not an astral projection

To be theorized but the seat of my emotions.

The only way to discover myself

Is through deep and loving conversation

So I had best pull up two chairs.

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

Cicatrix and Love

July 18

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 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.

Slice time with your thoughts and peer through the pieces

*

JUXTAPOSITION

Right next to this world is the globe that I came from.

The landmarks are similar but these spheres have little in common

The angle of refraction illuminates the place of my origin

The source of this light is legend.

On my home planet, the existence of sobriety is cast off as myth.

I held onto this tale with my heart.

I slipped the gravitational bonds of Crazy one night

By the glow of the ready button on the coffee pot.

Here and there intersect at only one point

A room with some chairs and a circle with a triangle.

The meeting was on step one

And it was a good place to jump in.

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

Horse Play

July 17

Horse Play

The sequestered equestrian rides alone through the night; the wood is as quiet as she.  Passing no one; speaking not a word, she slips into the paddock without a nicker or a neigh. I long to be just as she, not silent sentinel, but living a whist fleet life, a power unto myself.  What stands between are my hurt feelings and my longing to be loved.  I can’t blame myself for either, but work to heal and grow.  Nagging need is a pestilence I will be well rid of; the irredeemable past is luggage for a catalog, not for hauling on my back.  I will mount up and ride my great round stead, the night is mine when I am ready the path is there I know.

Imagine an ostrich in flight

*

GRAFT

The bottom has been cut out

My underpinnings stripped from me..

Budding ambition whittled down, transplanted,

Saddled onto the rock like stock of other peoples sobriety.

Taped to the leg of my sponsor I heal and grow.

I splice my thinking with the rich ideas of improved living

I cling to the cleft, divisions made from the people,

Places and things of my past leave me split,

Primed for fresh growth and opportunity.

Never again do I need return to the sordid

Acquisition of power or control

There is no gain when I am bolted to position and influence

Graft is graft for good or bad

I don’t have to grow where I was planted.