All the words I wish your fingers could feel
all the times I’ve wished
you could know
the silent sorrow
lying stiff in my throat
like cold
and broken teeth.
I wish you could hear
the child that cries
in my flesh and makes
my bones ache.
I wish you could speak to my fear.
I wish you could hold me
in your arms like oceans
and soothe what my muscles remember
all the bruises, all the sour hope
all the screams and scraped knees
the cloudy days so dark
I wondered if my eyes
were even open.
The days that I felt
like August, and that I, too
would soon turn
to Fall.
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Published by The Accidental Poet
Like a lot of people, I went to college. But unlike most, I took my Penn State classes in a state prison. I was serving three years for a crime spree that occurred while I was drunk and high. After years of therapy, jail time, AA meetings, and "seminars" on how to be human, I rediscovered Jesus. It took quite a number of slips and falls to finally surrender. I recognized my powerlessness over alcohol and drugs. I came to accept that I was tainted with a sin nature. And I came to understand that the only solution was to turn my will and my life over to God. I have two wonderful sons. They came out of my second marriage. I have always hoped that they would learn at an early age what took me over thirty years to learn. I'm 60 years old now, sober, working on a master's in Biblical Studies and Theology after completing my B.S in Psychology. I feel compelled to write about my experiences as a recovered Christian opiate addict and alcoholic. I attend Celebrate Recovery meetings and have become involved with youth ministry. My life has never been better.
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