8th Step Struggles

I was plucked from the nest, left at the door

Had no mothers warmth, felt her no more

She did what she had to, was left with no choice

I would never meet her, never hear her voice


Fostered and raised by soldiers of care

I was bruised and beaten for wasting air

Dismissed or abused, treated like rust

Drowned in the holy water, swept with the dust


 They had discussions but never with me

Never what I thought or what I could see

Relegated to clown hood, just a dumb joke

I was wheeled out to perform, to prod, to poke


My fear and anger both burned from within

A back that was broken with oppression of sin

Guilt trips to nowhere on shoulders of blame

I was saddled with guilt, ridden by shame


I later found freedom, a way to get out

A sweet escape, an alternate route

A road to destruction, a sure path to hell

But a way to drown out the tolling bell


Stopped all the voices, let me be here

In the now and present, free from fear

Inherited genes, a loud within voice

Made the bad choices not even a choice


Where’s my amends? That’s never asked

Who’s sorry to me? That ship has passed

Decades of suffering, but there’s no amends

Years of abuse, but no one else bends


Will I hear ‘I’m sorry’ for all the harm done?

A mea culpa for an abandoned son?

These worn out steps are of no use to me

Recovery zombies who can’t even see


They don’t even know me, these steppers of doom

who say “make amends”.  For What and to Whom?!


 Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved

Note – this is a poem that expressed what I was feeling at the time that I wrote it. It should not be construed as denouncing 12 step programs or any community groups in any way.

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