Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 2



The Inside Half


I have drunk deeply from the glass set before me. I’m not entirely sure that I am half way through, but I am into it a goodly bit. I would be happy to have another 19 years; nineteen more hours would be a gift, too. That glass might be half empty but I am at least half full and I am amazed! I am regularly stunned by the prodigies this half trek has born to term; equally dazzled by how quickly the generations compound in this painstaking construction. Development both internal and assembled surpasses my wildest imaginings. Amazement is my most constant companion, more than gratitude and as of late even outstripping willingness my most trusted ally. Shock has been replace by wonder, bewilderment with surprise, I am fortified with these feeling realities and look happily to finishing the rest of what is in that glass.




Turn left into your right mind




*



DUCK TONGUE

Trying to get out of myself, I travel to an Asian fish market and grocery
I had heard has very fresh fish.
Greeted at the door by thirty large and lively tarpila
Swimming in their tank,
I felt my mood lift.

The captured beauty gave me pause.
Shiny and silvery, the faces banged at the glass
As they tried to get a better look at my entrance.
Like passengers packed on a subway car,
The fish jockeyed for position near the glass.

Further inside, I see the wonders we have extracted from the sea,
Cuttlefish, conch, squid, mussels, clams,
Whole fish of every stripe.
My belief in a power of diversity strengthens
And I smile.

Leaving the seafood section, I head forward,
To the refrigerated cases of other types of meat.
Frozen pigs tail, fowl with feet on, the novel variety pleasing.
When I approach the trays neatly filled with rows of chicken feet
I break out in a grin.

Thoughts of soup and days gone by flutter through my mind.
Finding formed foam piles with layer after layer
Of ducks tongues was my limit
Spinning in my mind,
Who? Why? Oh no!

But in the end I came to care
About how these minuscule flaps of leather
Were placed.
The person whose job is done well
And to the fact people are just people.

We do what we do.
For reasons unimagined to the rest
And we do it,
With full faith
And hopeful breath.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 3



Today’s Math


Today is 12/06/06 this is an equation to me, 12 = 6 + 6, simple. Not everything is, but math always works for me. My Higher Power is math based and one of my major decision making tools is to run the equation of the presenting situation. There are many constants in my life and those numbers are easier to calculate the variables often prove more difficult. Scalable problems allow for my Geometry. Proofs are a comfort when I can get them. Set Theory is what I settle for when I can’t. I try to show all my work and have others check my calculations. I can’t tell you how often a simple error in addition or subtraction has fouled my whole equation not to mention my equilibrium. In conclusion I would like to say it is now 12= 9 + 6 and somehow I’ve lost three days, or did I gain them? See how tricky the signs are.



Put misconception up for sale


*

HOW LIKE THE MOON

I show the shining bright face to the world
But cannot enumerate the dark.
I change and turn for all to see
Glowing silver, to full fledged smile.

I inventory all phases
Can tell you from wax to wane
But the darkness, the anchor to my lonely life
I can only guess.

I feel my way across the unknown topography
Searching with fingers and faith
To find the secrets
Of this magic nightmare.

And What? What is the thing to break it?
Hope, Reverence, A detailed map
Or is the darkness just a fact,
Part of the big equation, the equalizer of the light?

If this is so, how best to live with it?
Continue the search or post barriers,
Go ever forward looking for an answer,
Endear myself to the void?

The choices are always mine
The way seldom clear.

[LeftWriteFemme]

February 4




What is “Offender” Number 2?

I’m not looking for trouble, really I’m not, it’s just that thanks to this program I’m no longer plagued by resentment, but I doubt that is the only stumbling block there is. Possibly the remaining list is as divergent as the alcoholics who make the lists. Though I am guessing we have more in common than that one thing. I stare at the various and sundry bric-a-brac measuring potential harm and formidability, so many candidates with razor edges. I take my combat pose as I lift the pen, wondering if giving things status also gives them power. I take comfort that acknowledgement is empowering for me. Tell me the weights you lift to strengthen your “Spiritual Muscle” the things that crowd behind resentment vying for their turn as perpetrator of downfall and misery.




Poetry in motion is like a marching band with words



*

THE FORGOTTEN

I am not Cleopatra.
I am not in denial.
I forgot.
"Sure" says my sponsor
"I've seen the headdress."

That's not fair
I've heard women say they forget the pain of child birth.
"They're kidding, you can't just forget pain,
It's there waiting in the wings,
Looking for its fifteen minutes of fame."

"You will be the worse for it" she say with her smug way.
What if I can't drag it forward?
"Honey, Baby, Sweetie, you need to let those things come up,
Before they drag you back to a drink
Or whatever your new addiction of choice is."

"Just open your mind,
You might be surprised what is waiting to see the light of day."
What if it kills me?
"Darling, you're not that lucky,
You don't get to escape through death either."

"Lean into this and you will get through it faster
Hold onto the program and you will get through easier,
Fight it and it will tear you up."
Always the optimist my sponsor.