Reclaiming My Gift

I wake in the middle of the night

slowly peel away from the

warmth of you

to write this poem

—————

it’s Christmas, officially

a time to formulate

new ideas on how to breathe

if I look back now

over my left shoulder

I can still see her

laying on the couch

Christmas morning

until day

until night

where did the vodka go?

she got her yearly token

It couldn’t possibly be today

of all days

for her to relapse

I think we might of opened presents that day

I don’t remember

I peer over my right shoulder

there I am

making a choice

to breathe again

formulating all the ways to do so

on holidays

breathing requires

fresh baked cookies

yoga reading writing thinking

And yes, sometimes drinking

It requires

cuddles cats dancing

and glee

And yes,

Sometimes requires a whole new

family honestly

maybe it requires

less sleep

so I can write poetry

I peer over my left shoulder

again

her image becomes blurry

the couch draws back

further and further away

until it is black

until is nothing

until is nothing

to write about anymore

and now I have choice

to walk away

now I have choice

to breathe

now I have a choice to

bake Christmas cookies

to celebrate life

the way I ought to

I can put her bottle down

lose the house key

sweep the floors

rest with my memories

maybe next year

I’ll finally get a Christmas tree

I can peer over my right shoulder

stack all of my gifts

I’ve presented for my self

flip through all of my years

of recovery

without her

celebrate life

the way I ought to

the way I deserve to

I can, for once

not peer over my shoulders

turn my head

firmly around

open my arms

to her

to all of her hell

receive my gift

and say, “thank you.”