where the writers are

Sherrie Theriault's Blog

RSSSyndicate content
Feb.07.2014
101.JPG
February 7   THE SEAMLESS DOOR     Tongue and groove fit tight; the pickled boards belie the passage.  Hinges buried deep, secreted inside the place with no words, the door remains shut, hidden.  The air, candy sweet, the space, filled with the unbroken stream of surreal...
Continue Reading »
Feb.06.2014
085.JPG
February 6     THE THRONG   The more people I meet, the more vehemently I do not believe in God.  The tidal wave of human ignorance hits me and the sheer and repetitive force of it is more than my single souled craft can bear.  Cyclical, coincidental tragedy coupled with...
Continue Reading »
Feb.05.2014
026-1Flight-w.jpg
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...
Continue Reading »
Feb.04.2014
001.JPG
February 4     HOW LIKE THE MOON   I show the shining, bright face to the world but can not enumerate the dark.  I change and turn for all to see, glowing sliver to full fledged smile.  I inventory all phases, can tell you from wax to wane, but the darkness, the anchor to...
Continue Reading »
Feb.03.2014
grandmother edited sm.jpg
February 3       AND THIS IS FOR WHAT?     I smiled down on God and said, “This is pretty and what is it for?” “Oh, that’s your life.  It is a surprisingly useful thing to have.”  My Higher Power, like my sponsor, thinks she is funny but she is not. “What am I...
Continue Reading »
Feb.02.2014
1 16 09 091.jpg
February 2       THE DIFFERENCE     Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.  No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly, in the end, if you don’t land it, it’s a fall and if you do, a flight.  How we begin seems of ultimate importance but...
Continue Reading »
Feb.01.2014
033.JPG
February 1     WHEN I WAS YOUNG   I’m sure it will come soon, a time I can be a carefree innocent.  Worn and weary, I slog through the painful over-awareness of what was considered my childhood.  What can I do but hope things will get simpler as I age?  My sobriety...
Continue Reading »
Jan.31.2014
052.JPG
January 31     TRUST   My sponsor always says, “You can trust people to be who they are.”  I am a different being in relationship to different people.  To some, I am the center of their constellation, the sun burning bright; I’m all they can see.  To others, I am the...
Continue Reading »
Jan.30.2014
015.JPG
January 30     NURSE   What if the word God is like the word nurse?  What if the person is only the simple meaning?  The actor doing the service, the plain act, uncontrollable from my end.  What if my active part of God is the same as my active part of nurse? ...
Continue Reading »
Jan.29.2014
408.jpg
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...
Continue Reading »
Jan.28.2014
7 2 10 A 009.jpg
January 28     AMENDS     Amends is about truth and change.  The relationships of my past were places of little truth and even less change.  I tried to be nice not honest; I tried to keep things going even when they needed to die.  Making amends has ended most of...
Continue Reading »
Jan.27.2014
5 26 09 Tommi Idiwyle and more 008.jpg
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....
Continue Reading »
Jan.26.2014
126.JPG
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...
Continue Reading »
Jan.25.2014
Painting 4 dark.jpg
January 25     LIFE AS AN ELM   I stand tall, my bark sloughing elongated rectangles.  Great bunions of protruding wood, giant bubbles of tight grain grown in reactionary curls, these tumors born of abuse and endured in maturation are harvested in recovery.  The burden of...
Continue Reading »
Jan.24.2014
274.JPG
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...
Continue Reading »