When we start to think about
our yesterdays,
we get scared, well some, me, suppose
the words need only be self-directed,
if validity
is the goal of my game.
I contemplate my day before notions,
those of consequence and reward,
I try to recall the best, when especially drawn
into the abyss of the mess.
A hundred years ago, my embellishment
landed me in places I couldn’t defend,
only wished I had found a way to mend
the indifference,
self-righteous patterns of wanting everything,
my way, my game, my gamble, my favorite
addiction.
I lost at every step, remembering when leaving
fearing skid row might be my home address
in six weeks or less,
less the confidence, less the support,
lest I drag my ass out of the gutter and realize
there is a life ahead.
However, there is always the readiness,
not choice by personal desire,
but the savior whomever that might be in our lives,
the one and only,
Grace,
the epitome of letting go,
realizing we cannot, and will never need to do this on our own,
alone.
Yet today, I do think about my yesterdays,
and wonder if I might ever step away,
to enjoy the beauty of this,
namaste.
