Three Recovery Poems

c.2024/25 ODAAT MI

The Disease (Cunning, Baffling, Powerful)

I am ill

But not alone

We share the 

Same illness, and

We may make it out

Alright 

In the end

It was horror, yes

And pain

But I was able

To change

You may yet, as well

The catalyst struck me

In my old bed

On the floor, of a

Crowded room

Full of stuff I 

Didn’t use, but wanted

Not the first time,

But thankfully

The last

Things are now

Different, in the sense that

I feel less of

That specific pain

Still, I don’t forget

Where I came from

And how it hurt me

And I hope

I never do

Four-Stair

Good business requires

Inventory

Annually, or more

But then, I am not

Such a system

I am simply 

A force

Unreckoning, abashed

With a plaster, brittle heart

Thankfully still beating

And wondering

As of late

What is to come

I Can See-Out of This Prison

Through the glass

To the other side

What lies

Beyond? 

Thy will, not mine…

I just hope it is 

Enough

My life is full

Days pass me by

In blur,

A hurried rush

And yet I know

That gratitude

May heal me;

A loving force

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Not meant as a pun, but this was a sobering write. It put the reader in the addict's driving seat, showing the challenges such people face. Should be required reading in institutions of learning.