Thursday, December 25, 2008

Alone, Life In The Fast Lane

We are rapidly melting now, but the ridges of shoved aside snow at the intersections are killer. Because I dug the driveway out, the piles alongside are three feet deep still, after two days of melt. I hope that I will be able to drive okay tomorrow. I am tired of depending on the good will of others, though I know that allowing people the chance to do something for me may be a gift to them. So I was taught in AA, by experience on both sides of that issue.

So imagine a summer landscape, a cross country hike, reaching a hill with a solitary tree. Imagine how it must be to be so alone, year after year.


Singular fierce tree
Once one seedling, a small grove,
Only this one left
In the thirsty land atop
This windswept dry yellow hill.

Long ago old grief
For lost sisters is now deep
Roots in older rocks.


Here is another journey in the imagination. This is the man I could have been had Ann not stared me down one day and said I had to change. Well, not this guy but just as empty, just as lost and broken, with ashes in my mouth, the taste of an empty life realized.

Ann was trying to save her life too. This confrontation point was her latest move at that time, January, 1983, in trying to get me to be the man she needed. I responded every time she pushed but couldn't seem to ever really change toward her way. That's a whole other story.

Life In The Fast Lane

I was born to run
Away, away from myself,
From you, forever
Running on knotted sore feet,
Bleeding, using broke down knees.
I'm ever looking
For an easy soft green land
Where I can stop, rest.
I'm ever looking
For someone to really trust,
For the real me, you.
Not much left of me.
Running on empty, no breath
To pray for true peace.


  1. Very nice, Christopher. I like this poem.

  2. Your poetry is purple and indigo blue Christopher.
    On Tracey-Ann's blog I find this post.
    Did you write it? I can relate and
    it has made me cry on a day of few internal tears. Thank you....If you did not I still love it


    I, too, am impressed. This feels very much a master stroke.


    If I were warlock
    Enough, I would reach into
    The heart of the world
    And heal the old pain.
    Then I would spread warmth and peace
    Like a velvet cloth
    Of rich royal red
    In a river at flood tide
    To soothe our tired lives.

  3. Yes, Linda, I did write that. For me this is a discipline. I am required to write two or more a day. They will not often be very large, and until I can't stand it any more, they will have a haiku discipline, but not be haiku.

    It came from engaging in a blog that was ascerbic and combative and coming to realize that I was not going to engage. So I fashioned the habit of replying in poesy. I aim at poems quick enough that I can steal the time at work without feeling too bad because I work long.

    Now I realize that flexing poetic muscle gives me wide varieties of topics and I am approaching three hundred poems since August.

  4. Thanks Christopher.
    I would like to follow your blog if that works for you. I like your stuff!!

  5. I am happy to have you aboard. You may notice that I write about recovery sometimes too.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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