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  • I am from cruises through Hell on addiction’s high seas
    Past the Rock of Gibraltor, just like the family painting of
    Great Aunt Marie’s – looming dark, spirit sank
    Crashing reactors, paranoid flights on a bus, hitchhiking
    From east coast to west and the Bay’s felon tank

    I am from freedom one day with a discharge in hand
    Dreams taking flight and then crashing to land
    At addiction’s front door by the beach I’d once haunted
    Selling my blood for a shot, my resistance for a toke
    Crawling back home with no dreams, shattered hopes

    I am from suicide’s front gate, a familiar refrain
    As death I awaited seeking shelter from the rain
    Of a life I’d not known and a dream out of grasp
    Driven by demons, but more scared of saints from on high
    The ones who would judge, but none more than I

    I am from journeys well traveled in a search for a truth
    Seeking and stumbling my way towards the shores of
    Recovery’s sweet sands just beyond the horizon
    Swimming ever harder through waves of regrets
    Surrendering and being carried to the beach on love’s tides

    I am from struggling to live without mind-altering crutch
    Learning to tame the wild beast in my soul
    Meetings and service and jobs by the score
    Writing and typing and writing some more
    Jail time cold sober and a cold wake-up call

    I am from finally sailing into recovery’s harbor
    Weighing down ancher and furling my sails
    Stumbling into a career and a life-long partner
    Beauty and truth and freedom, free gifts
    A way of life built on gratitude and love
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