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sherrie-theriault's picture
Apr.09.2014
April 9   FINE PRINT   I can scrawl the wall with everything I know.  I can fill my books, chapter and verse, with pure and honest hope, but let me begin the precision of language and watch.  My once open face becomes tight; my free associations peek regularly around each corner...
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Feb.25.2014
Sod
February 25       SOD   Green and black, pinwheels of rolled grass speed by me on a flatbed.  Sod headed for home.  That is how it is for me.  I grew in a place of impermanence, a place clearly not my destination.  Uprooted and prepared for relocation, I am...
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Feb.12.2014
February 12     MY TALE   I must be my own tattletale.  I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease.  Anything I protect and nurture will grow and overtake me.  It is up to me to choose if I will feed my ailment or my health.  My life will be consumed...
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Feb.10.2014
February 10       FORGIVENESS   “Forgiveness is not something to force on people like unwanted coffee,” says my sponsor. Everyone tells me forgive, forgive, forgive. “These are the same folks who said, ‘stay and have another drink.’  It is only appropriate to forgive people...
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Feb.05.2014
February 5       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 childbirth." “They’re kidding.  You can’t just forget...
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Jan.29.2014
January 29   MY MOTHER’S FACE     The way that age pours down my mother's face when she is sad reminds me that grief runs through my blood.  Generation after generation has been transfused with anxious woe.  Heartbreak vexes minds full of fear.  There is no easy way to...
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Jan.27.2014
January 27     DEEP IN THE SEA   Under the mirror, there is a life.  Under what I reflect to the world, I am a world apart.  I smile sweetly, political in my response to confrontation and conflict.  Deep, deep in the sea, is a current of sadness I can’t always shake....
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Jan.26.2014
January 26     BUTTON BOX   I go to my button box to sort out my life.  I lay out matching sets, the various sizes, shapes and colors.  Coat buttons are commanding but unsuitable for the delicate places.  The tiny pearl buttons with shanks pull my attention but work...
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Jan.24.2014
January 24     COMPOST   Looking at the bins, the stages of decomposition remind me of my disease, the stinking garbage I came in with.  I have learned to work my program the same way I learned to tend my pile: personal experience, advice, watching and smelling the mistakes of...
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Jan.21.2014
January 21     THE FROG   Stretched in the water, still, the frog hangs.  The pond is barely a teacup, sufficient for the communion of God and frog.  I watch the frog, unblinking , savoring respiration.  In a pond in Maine, I bore this posture, center stage.  A...