The trouble with not burying my dead issues is that in very short order they begin to smell and not, too long after that they start to attract vultures. Alternately when I am able to drain all the juice out of these botherations and they become freeze-dried decorations like Roy Rodger’s Trigger, I find that I can still climb aboard but they just don’t take me anywhere. I have found, just for me that I prefer visiting the grave of a past problem far better than having to live with its corpse, but then I am funny like that. I have never been one for hanging on to the crucifixion, of other’s or my own.
Don’t wait for the bell of courage to sound, go ring it yourself
Within the sound of your voice
In the beat of your heart
I feel in your touch
And dance when your toe starts to tap.
I see myself in your beauty
And warm inside your embrace.
Your thoughts are my inspiration.
Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out.
I soar in your flight
And dream in your waking.
I ring in your ears
Fall with your tears.
I’m lost in you
And found in you.
I travel and lounge in you
I share all your rantings and hide in your secrets
You hear and caress me, my darling
You know who I am.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault