By John W
Since before he had his first taste
Since before his wound was inflicted
He had longed to be in that number,
Had longed to come marching in
He was no saint, of this he was sure
About this the years of abuse left no doubt
Shattered dreams, broken promises, abandoned hope
Each made clear his failure was no mistake
Until he finally heard the message
Of all things, suggestions from a drunk
“Work the Steps and your life will change”
Were empty words, not “hope” for him
He of course was different, not like “them”
So nothing that worked for them
Would heal his wounds
These would take him to his grave
Or so he had thought, until time had passed
With each sober day, the wounds healed
Though scars ran deep, he still got better
As they had foretold, his life did change.
From the wreckage had risen the Phoenix
The skeletons which filled his closet
Now were laid bare in brilliant reflection
Their fear and foreboding no longer a threat
This lesson had been hard taught
But it was a lesson he had learned,
A lesson he had infused into his marrow.
It had become a part of him, a vital part of him
With each novice he was blessed to meet
With each newcomer he got to sponsor
He shared this part of him, bared his soul to them
Shared with them, this experience of his.
To more than some, sadly not all,
The attraction worked, the message was heard
A simple formula, one drunk to another,
Had worked where only failure had been before.
As unlikely as the formula had been, so too
Had he in the most unlikely way, become a Healer,
He was a Wounded Healer, His diseased past,
Now the prescription for a healthy new life.
