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July 2016, vol 12 no 2

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Zach Groesbeck


If I’m painstaking, The Big Book promises I will be amazed. Instead, I have come to realize God is not doing for me what I cannot just do for myself.

The old timers say I should rid myself of this mindset, what they call “stinking thinking.” But they say shit like that all the time – these guys believe words can actually save someone. The way they blabber on, you’d expect holy water to spill bountifully by the mouthful, to flood the room, immersing our circle of chairs and drowning our estranged bodies as if God’s transfiguring love came to man in the form of some ex-junkie’s choice of words.

Honestly, there was a little while, a little while, where I felt better – a shining brightness all at once passing through the window, morning revealing white rectangles on my overcast wall.

But that light is gone now, everything’s become grayer.

Pink clouds
behind them, a downpour –
the other sky I have known