I wrote this poem after one of my 12-step meetings, because it was important that I manifest the miraculous connection that we all shared in these rooms:
Coffee stains blend into the Berber carpet, adding more brown blotches with each passing year. Yellow paint chips break away from the walls that once held them, leaving behind blank shapes that morph into imaginary things.
The lucky ones who enter these rooms don’t notice the cosmetic imperfections, because what happens here is more powerful than any of us can describe.
Ego defenses melt away, remaining outside of these walls.
Anger has a right to express itself; the emotion isn’t shamed or tucked away to fester.
Salty tears can be shed without being silenced.
In these rooms, people don’t run.
In these rooms, people don’t judge.
In these rooms, people are accepted.
We enter as strangers, but come away as friends.
We share overwhelming emotions, giving our spirits a place to breathe.
We come together when we relapse, giving our spirits a place to heal.
In these rooms, we learn wisdom and mindfulness.
In these rooms, we learn how to recognize erroneous beliefs.
In these rooms, recovery bonds us.
In these rooms, something delightful happens.
In these rooms, we create sheer magic by being together.