The Rooms Of Recovery. Story of recovery

Into the humble and once smoke-filled rooms with rickety chairs and worn-out carpet, I stepped

Banners suggesting a flicker of hope draped the walls as my new fellows shuffled in, to seek redemption

No one is skipping or dancing yet smiles adorn their faces, maybe a welcome holy grail for this lost soul

All welcome they said there’s only one requirement at this very minute, a desire, with no apparent leader of this loving pack

With my shoes and soul threadbare I didn’t care so much for lectures, just hope and a glimpse of opportunity

We come from all walks, travelled a very familiar path as only we understand it, that dark and lonely time we spent in hell

Biology, tragedy or trauma led me to this complex mix of nightmares, where I soothed my madness, with just one more

No more I’ve had enough, the gift of desperation welling in my head, I can’t go on like this

Like prep school for the wounded, I took a little direction and counted to 12, a few hugs and some measured love, abound

Minute by minute, day by day my sanity prevailed, they walked with me and didn’t let go, even when I stumbled

Eventually, I found a higher power or two first it was Flipper then I went a little deeper and found the universe

She smiled upon me, I smiled back and paused to say thank you then grasped and carried that message of hope

Which was so lovingly and kindly given to me.

Rod B