The Gift

Our culture gifts solitude

not for meditation, yet

our purpose, we choose.

Emotions, resentment,

chaos flare, ensnare.

Retreat! Find sanctuary

to regroup, to connect,

to redirect. Nobody need

know if you flush as you leave.

Letter of Resignation

Just resign from the debating society and quit bothering yourself with such deep questions as to whether it was the hen or the egg that came first. Again I say, all you need is an open mind. (Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions [Alcoholics Anonymous], page 26)

I herein tender my resignation
from this most honorable and
prestigeous society. While I admit
I've drawn great pleasure,
bickering eloquently, propounding
postulates, reasoning  pros and cons,
picking apart others' hypotheses
to support my own theorems.
I know I'll miss it, but I've chosen
an easier, better path. Now I need not know
all the nuances. Now I need only
an open mind and the willingness
that a power greater than I
should fill it.

Every Day

 Every day is a day when we must carry the vision of God's will into all of our activities. (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 85)

Most days should be enough.
When is every single one needed?

hen is consensus insufficient?
Ninety-five is a darned good grade.
So why EVERY day?
How come into ALL activities?
Doesn't the Big Book say
progress, not perfection?
Good enough is good enough,
isn't it? After all, I only commit to today,
not forever and ever. Just one day.
Just today. Just this day. Tomorrow's
beyond my control. I can't tell you
what I'll do then. Today. One day,
not all of them. But the problem is,
I can't take today off. But just today.
Every day.

Who Wants Recovery?

Perhaps you are not acquainted with any drinkers who want to recover. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 89)

Who wouldn't want recovery?
How could anybody learn of the Steps
and turn away, give up the chance offered,
remain in insanity, in the sickness, addicted,
hopeless, powerless, lost?
How would they come into the rooms,
feel the love, sense the joy, know something's there
and turn away? Would anybody say no?
Most not vocally. They just walk with their feet,
speak with actions, turn away to rely on self,
to stay there stumbling, refusing to claim
grace dappling through the rooms. 

inadequate

One computer gasping,
hijacked by service provider wanting
to help but without functional links
or phone number. Another, brand new,
trying to go to the same page and freezing
the app. Poem due. I resort to telephone texting
through fears and confusion... Nobody said
service of daily poems was easy or all would go well. 
Ineptness on computers is not inadequacy as a person.
Commitments don't have to be easy. Even sharing
fears and misplaced convictions of inadequacy
serves a purpose and says something meant to be heard. 
I just show up and do what I can. 
Thank goodness I'm not in charge of results.

A Christmas Poem

Why write a Christmas poem?
After two thousand years
the subject’s saturated,
glorious songs by
Handel, Wesley, the bigs.
Besides, why me? I’ve
decked no tree these last few years.
Writing checks passes for giving
and keeps me out of malls.
It’s Christmas Eve – I sit
with my computer. But earlier
I went to church, sang carols,
felt “in.” And I care.
In a grinchy kind of way.
I’m thankful. For computer
peaceful nights, for people
I care enough to write
checks to. For an account
that doesn’t cringe.
For God’s love, as much tonight
as last night, last month, a week from
Tuesday. I’m glad earlier years
torn between competing parents
have passed, dissipated, ended.
I’m glad for hope for peace on
earth for me, for others, for
people who let go and let God
grant us glory. For the Word
that’s God who gives us words.
For Grace. Thanks, God.

Immanuel

Immanuel or Emmanuel or Imanu'el (Hebrew עִמָּנוּאֵל "God [is] with us" consists of two Hebrew words: אֵל (’El, meaning 'God') and עִמָּנוּ (ʻImmānū, meaning 'with us')

God with us,
the god of our understanding,
the god inside of us, all around us,
maker and creator and sustainer
of all things, God with us.

Hope with us,
hope when despair seems to point
the only direction, where  hopeless,
helpless, unable to — despite all efforts.
Hope for life beyond our wildest dreams,
for promises fulfilled, for life-filling hope.

Love with us,
love for us when we feel least lovable,
love in the eyes and words of folks just met,
love and acceptance without taking a step
toward the behavior that might, we hope,
justify the courage to express.

Peace with us,
peace on earth, good will to men,
deserving and rotten to the core,
people of all shapes and sizes, of all groups,
peace in hearts and lives
that knew none, that lurched
without god, without love, without peace
until every attribute of God chose to live among us.

Daddy

Sam R. Breedlove, June 22, 1915 - December 24, 2008

Honor, integrity, work ethic.
"Very good supper, Mrs. B."
Grace before every meal.
I cried that my younger sister
was about to marry and at 23
it seemed I never world.
Dumbfounded, at a loss for words,
hugs and comfort worked, treasured.
"Don't be sorry, don't do it."
"There's nothing new and improved." 

Lover letters from Africa, India,

"censored by Sam."
Sunday School Superintendent,
song leader, soloist, mayor,
draftsman, engineer,
traveling salesman.
"When I yell 'Suzy' everybody
better come." Did he ever yell Suzy?
"Skinamarink a dink-a-dink,
skinamarink ado."
Love for "Trumpeters' Holiday,"
bassos profundo. Ugly women
who sing best. If a pickup
on a country road pulls way right
they're turning left. A book with
an extra, always. I learned
a few months ago
the funeral home built a room
so "Sam" could sing for funerals
without washing off tinshop-grime.
Daddy's "Lord's Prayer"
(aka Hoffmeister's)
A life well lived, well loved.
When we all get to heaven,
what a day of rejoicing
that will be.
(the victo_ry)

Power

Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't. ~ Margaret Thatcher

Power I seek fails miserably,
makes me unhappy even if I should reach
the intended mark. Power bestowed on me
by others, which comes through a power
greater than me, can be a blessing to all.
Statesmen and politicians share little
other than titles. It's true, though,
at levels far short of international status.
When I'm in charge, pride ascends.
When I'm the tool, blessings mount.

What Kind of Example?

I can be a living example or a dying example of how the program works. (Voices of Recovery, page 16)

Sometimes I'm an eagle, others a grackle.
Sometimes my life is marvelous,
a magnet for others, a delight for me,
wondrous in richness and depth.
Other times, I go through the motions,
or don't, finding an excuse, an "emergency"
that wouldn't meet the Webster's definition,
just bad planning on my part. My willingness
gone, I find myself praying - if at all -
not for willingness but for willingness to be
willing.  Stinking thinking creeps in,
tricking me to self-reliance, to minimal effort,
too close to the riptide, daring destiny.
But when I come to meetings anyway,
especially when I'd rather not,
the tide turns, and I'm glad I came,
and grateful to each who shares
salvation and recovery
reminding me
what I want to choose. 

"Where Everybody Knows Your Name"

The esprit de corps we sought in addiction,
in all-you-can-eat buffets, in bars, in casinos,
claimed to be there, masqueraded as staying there,
but lied. It was a farce, a bait-and-switch, a mockery
laughing at us from the depths of our loneliness,
the desolation that echoed through the chambers
of out-of-control lives. False fronts, pretending at cheer,
acting as jovial, hid despair. Camaraderie, the real kind,
resides elsewhere. I looked among the right people,
but too early, before they escaped, before they gave up —
before they admitted powerlessness to find strength,
to find promises worth standing on, to find recovery
where everybody knows your name, where each one cares,
where they're always glad you came. 

A Total Liability

... self-confidence was no good whatever; in fact it was a total liability. (The Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous, page 23)

Easy response is, "I'm okay."
Funny. It's been my mantra
so many years, since "I'm fine"
from the oxygen tent,
my five-year-old confidence
speaking out. Was it really
self confidence? Or people
pleasing. I know the answer.
I know the importance.
Self-confidence takes
a back seat in me
to just about everything.
Good thing. God thing.
I'm not in charge. I don't need
confidence in me.
Just in the boss
and in me, willingness
to not be it. 

Bankrupt

No other kind of bankruptcy is like this one. Alcohol, now become the rapacious creditor, bleeds us of all self-sufficiency and  all will to resist its demands. Once this stark fact is accepted, our bankruptcy as going human concerns is complete. (Twelve Steps and Twleve Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous, page 21)

Greedy creditor, the addiction,
coming at us like a bird of prey,
draining the life-blood, the will,
the give a care. Demanding —
even threatening —
like a bookie snubbed, scorned,
rebuffed. Tenacious, doggedly
snatching at self-respect,
at pretensions of sufficiency,
siphoning any shred of dignity.
Only in retrospect can extenuating
aspect sneak in, building footing
for bedrock despair. Powerless.
Life beyond control. 

Wildness of God

Sometimes it is the wildness of God, the untamable energies of the divine within creation, that the creatures alert us to. (Christ of the Celts, J. Philip Newell, p. 34)

I need a wild god!
I long to slough off
the formal, the trite,
the straitjacket tight
constraints. I want
a dancing god,
a rapscallion,
a co-conspirator,
a giggling god.
I need a life-loving
audacious god.
Joy to the world! 

Imitation

I’m no model lady. A model’s just an imitation of the real thing. ~ Mae West

Sincere flattery,
so they say.
She admires me,
wants what I have —
but not in the right way,
the recovery way.
She wants my life
and not like the folk who say
I wish I had his car
and he had something better.
Like a copy-cat game,
a mimic, an echo.
How do I stay on my street side
if she’s on it with me?
How do I evict her
from my life?
Am I selfish to think this,
she’s obsessing on me?
But my gut sees imitation.
Not purposeful, maybe,
but real. Give me back my life.
God’s telling me it’s not my job
to tell the world the truth.
It’s my job to be the truth.
Who wouldn’t want what I have?

What Is Forgiveness?

What does forgiveness mean?

Not forgetting – short answer, but more.
Forgiveness is understanding another
as flawed human. It's assessing
actions that addressed his needs,
even if meeting those needs stomped on mine
and my feelings, my financial security,
my self-esteem, my personal relations – on me.
Forgiveness is understanding our fellow folk
as human. If she's wronged me, I can see

she didn't act because of me, but her – her needs.

And forgiveness doesn't mean putting yourself
out there again, vulnerable, to open a way
to be wronged again by the same person
doing the same thing – or even other things.

Don't try to be a bosom buddy.

But let her go, drop the resentment,
the obsession, the anger.  Don't imprison
yourself by waiting for her contrition.

You need your wings, unclipped.

Who Knows?

But in their hearts they really do not know why they do it. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 23)

You’ve got a question?
Then I’ve got an answer.
Doesn’t matter if I know
the answer, just matters
that you don’t know
that I don’t know. I know
I’m lying, I know I’m fake,
I know I don’t know,
but you can’t know
that I don’t know.

You want an answer?
That’s a different matter.
I don’t know the answer,
and in those times
my head’s right, at the moment
I’m living in recovery,
I’ll even admit I don’t know
the answer, have no special
knowledge, that I’m along
for the ride. But then, maybe,
my mouth will keep talking,
speak wisdom not from me,
and we’ll know.

God Speaks

I know when God's telling me somethig because it pisses me off. (Anonymous)

God's voice to some comes solfly,
comfort personified - or so I'm told.
But then again,
when he's ready for me
to change a long-treasured part of me,
a habit lived past usefulness,
he can irritate like sand in a shoe,
like a hangnail, like chalk screeching.
Maybe a still small voice worked
for Elijah. But  me, I get a violin
in need of tuning. 

No Spectators!

Recovery doesn't happen
to people on the sidelines.
Arm-chair quarterbacks
must get up, work Steps,
participate. Halfway
trying won't even get
a grade of 50 but a big
flat zero. 

Smashed Delusions

We learned that we had to fully concede to our innermost selves that we were alcoholics. This is the first step in recovery. The delusion that we are like other people, or presently may be, has to be smashed. (Alcoholics Anonymous, page 30)

It's really not that I'm not like other people.
That's the myth I lived with most my life,
until I figured out how many of us
have  the same fears, the same insecurities.
The idea everybody else knew what was going on,
had the secrets I wasn't in on —
that part was false. No, the delusion
I can't cling to isn't that. It's about the behaviors
with comfort, or where I thought comfort could be found.
There, I'm different. I can't eat what others can.
And I can't fool myself into thinking I can when...
whatever the when may be.
But I'm not deprived. Because had I not had the addiction,
I'd never have found the joy of letting it go.