Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

April 14



THE PLAYGROUND

Getting my ass kicked in the playground of my mind was once a daily event. Now, it is a far off memory. I absent myself from the jungle gym the same way I absent myself from bars---places set with traps and schemes I am no longer attracted to. Bullies and ego trips can’t draw me toward the fence. Dares and double-dares are such ancient devices I can’t even find the trigger they used to pull. Trouble doesn’t know my new name, my sober name; I don’t answer to the old one. I hate to admit the isolation of my school yard days, but no one I knew back then will keep me on the road to the future. So, I leave the ball in their court and wish them well.



Expectations are lovely as long as you leave off the outcomes.

*


Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river,
I’ve tried, all it does is distort.
I block the flow and swamp ensues,
mighty oaks waist deep in water.

The current is strong
and I fear being swept away,
not realizing I was born to swim.

Dreading the swim back for spawn
I try to stay too close to my origins,
never make it to open water,
never to live the life I was intended for.

I’ve heard it said,
“Don’t push the river it flows by itself,”
but I can’t stall it either.


You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault