Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE


I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.


Explore the air not just the dirt.
*


A Thousand Windowed House

I am like a house with a thousand windows.
When I am lit up inside
you can see all the way through;

When I go dark
the reflection of the world around me is all
that is visible when you look my way.

My sprawling mind is what creates this effigy of me.
A tribute when I am well tended
and a fire trap when I neglect my duties.

If I learn to celebrate in all the rooms
this house is my home,
so I must practice; dance and sing in the hallways.

So I can pirouette into the rooms with full voice.
For what is the point of being a house
with a thousand windows, if I don’t live there?