Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 19



Earl Grey is not my Friend


Scabby knees is what I look for; I need to be with those who climb, not those who slide. I hate to say it, but looking cool and sitting on the sidelines does nothing for me or my sobriety. I have to build those calluses, require patches in my clothes, carry a hammer to pound in those spikes. If I don’t see tools in your hands and bodily evidence that you have been using them, I really don’t have time for you. This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me and if it isn’t for you then have fun and I hope you have a good seat, but I am not staying for your tea party; I have no time for tarts.







Explain the difference between a rabbit and a bunny

*


SLOTH TOES

A sloth is known by the number of its toes
Not its name or love of art or music.
The oddest attributes draw attention and acclaim
From scorekeepers and flag-wavers of the world.

Going my way in this life I am seen by clock-watchers
As timeless and by trumpeters as soundless.
I am not defined by these.

The number of my toes or the time I keep
Or the sound I make is more than who I am.
An explanation of me will not fit on an index card
Or nameplate or job title.

As long as I stay clear of these traps
And classifications I am safe.
If I buy in or fall down
My sum and total will neatly fit on a toe tag.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 20


Self Importance


When I am over sensitive and everything that everyone does looms large for me, I am more likely to think that I am a driving force in the lives of others. It’s a funny connection in the same way that when I scratch the dogs tummy her foot paddles; when I am not getting my needs met I tend to believe I am in this world to meet the needs of others. Often when in this mindset I also delude myself further to worry that I may be the only person who can help these other people. I have been training myself to throw a flag on any and all plays where I am that important. I try to bring all action to a stop and get right sized about who I am and how important I am and to whom and why. It’s not that I don’t have value, I have the same value as everyone else, but when I shortchange my needs and my feelings, over responsibility to others mushrooms and this is not good for anyone; me least of all. As with most things, if I find out what is right for me it tends to be right for those around me, even if I can’t see that at the time.






Frame your favorite moments
*

VICTORY

Victory is a funny thing,
Bursting across the finish line
Ends the joyful competition
And begins the wait until the next endeavor.

Pushing for success
Drops my life off the radar screen.
Power can propel me out of range
The center of my life overshot
In an attempt to be a winner.

I am stripped of my commonality
In striving for singularity.
Looking for acclaim leaves me lonely.
The winners circle is very small
And while the flash explodes
The development shows I am now alone.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 21


Resilience

When I experience trauma or drama my heart and soul return to the toddler state; I feel the urge to stay up and push forward. I resist help and rest. I try to override animal need in favor of intellectual prowess. Bleary eyed and red-faced, I soldier on, only to manage to make my life into a ceaseless fight. My charm and wit wear thin; then wear out. I need to recharge my batteries, need to hit reset and restore my default settings. It is hard for me to accept that I must lie down in order to get up again. Restoration is impossible to achieve from my battle stance. Resilience is a bouncing ball. What I want to rise I must first throw down.






Sweetly kiss the past goodbye
*



SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS

At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape
Adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel
Built into the barrier where the line forms.
Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen.

When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized
Others had stood there and responded
To the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge
With fingernails---I was drawn to do the same.

I could not pull much up but each time I stand there
I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it
To the head of the line and be on my way.
Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away.

Over time we will accomplish this task
Unbidden, unknown to each other
Except through this common goal
Spontaneous willingness to do what can be done