TRYING TO KICK
TRYING TO KICKTo Fran three years on (II)
As I loose Hypnos' grip
Hemera opening my eyes
I reach to grasp one more time
A fix to end my pain
Like a junkie trying to kick
I need one more kiss
From the lips of Morpheus
The empty pillow next to me clears my head
No head or hair to hold and smell
Your body not next to mine again
The topography of the spread
Unchanged from the night of sleep
Escaping
I stumble to make coffee
Stuck on the first of twelve steps
After on morning at a time
No tomorrows loom for me
Yesterdays and yesteryears before
Give little comfort
I face one day at a time
I know my problem well
Friends tell me
Through recovery
That the Twelfth Step
Is finding faith, a God of some sort
It is Hemera and Noyx
The gods of day and night
Who have moved in
I live with them
One day at a time
One night at a time
Yet the habit of you
Is too hard to break
The loss of you
A break of faith
Which I affirm
One day at a time
posted by Steve at 12:03 PM
2 Comments:
I understand that type of addiction...fog-like...outside of time and space...bittersweet...
I read and reread the two poems about Fran with deep appreciation and still-lingering shock that she's gone. Both poems are occasions for me to conjure up my own vivid memories of her at our little cabin on an Adirondack Lake.
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