A symphony's
curfew
curtsies
to its
buckled
knees
appointments
petaled
in haste
gin talk
one's darker
needs
AA meetings
rally
around this
that is
one's inability
to socially
decrease
the fuel of fury
they splash
their livers
with
so to
combat
the stress of
intermingled
yet equally
complicated
society
all
just
liquid bandages
on
tense
gun shot wounds
waiting
to be
ripped off
and healed
by the
stale air
of another 's
understanding.....................
(April 3, 2011 745pm)
Author's Notes/Comments:
this poem came from a conversation I had not too long ago with a friend about how she went to Al Anon to try to better deal with and understand her sister's drinking problem. From what all she shared with me I got this random choppy over view I suppose it helps and I went years ago one time with a friend of mine's mother as my friend her son was a terrible alcohoic and what my friend and I were discussing on the phone recently brought back memories of that strange meeting I went to. I was a lot younger and did not get many of the things they were discussing as I had not seen such things and I, myself have not been addicted to anything like that before so I could not really grasp much from the whole thing on either side of the fence of the matter but my friend's mom seemed to take away a lot from it as she had seen I suppose some of the horror hypotheticals they had talked about and now was armed with better ways to deal with such future incidents. Anyway, from the outside looking in, this was my general take on the matter. I am not knocking it and I hear it helps family memebers of addicts, I just think I was the wrong person to drag to one of those and my friend talking recently about her sister and her experience at a more recent Al Anon meeting seemed to help her too but left me again baffled. I walked away counting my blessings that I have not had to endure such an ordeal as a loved one strung out on any sort of addiction and thought perhaps my view would change if I were fully exposed to such a person in my own family. This poem came from all those thoughts and that resurfaced confusion brought to life again by my friend's conversation about her sister and her experiences and how the Al Anon group had helped her.
