This poem was given to me by an active addict and permission was provided to post on my website by the author. She is a wonderful woman, who lost the use of her legs due to a drug related injury. She tries and tries and with luck she will find the reason to stay and not go back out.
In the mean time, here is her stream of conscience poem titled aptly, “Dear poetry”:
David Lewry
“Dear Poetry”
By: Terra Uchytil
My friend pointed,
a magpie so fat he was falling off the bird feeder,
trying to eat,
I turned around to enjoy the scenery,
planted in my chair,
my permanent,
lifelong seat.
I have issues with accepting,
in my own denial,
I have no true way of taking care of me.
I’ve got no coping skills,
no strategies to daily living,
no routines only more about my capability.
So by this one enjoyable way of expressing self,
in true poetry,
instead of diary or journal,
decided I love lyrics,
music rhyming holds more compassion,
the most of all.
I moved to Calgary,
due to convenience,
in necessities and resources here,
though my kids are back at home,
their dad,
six hours away,
and this I fear...
So afraid of missing out,
on their childhood,
found with later regret,
lost time,
I can never buy back.
The only way,
it can become constructive,
worthwhile,
able to succeed,
if I quit the crack.
The drug,
which has consumed my whole life,
it’s what put me in this wheelchair,
everything I’ve lost.
This demon,
looks beyond all the others,
leads my life,
I pay ANY cost.
Please God help me,
to help myself,
do not let this demon of a drug,
erase my soul,
steal my destiny.
Please do not let my children,
and I drift further apart,
or lose what touch they have,
to this drug addicted mommy.
In the mean time, here is her stream of conscience poem titled aptly, “Dear poetry”:
David Lewry
“Dear Poetry”
By: Terra Uchytil
My friend pointed,
a magpie so fat he was falling off the bird feeder,
trying to eat,
I turned around to enjoy the scenery,
planted in my chair,
my permanent,
lifelong seat.
I have issues with accepting,
in my own denial,
I have no true way of taking care of me.
I’ve got no coping skills,
no strategies to daily living,
no routines only more about my capability.
So by this one enjoyable way of expressing self,
in true poetry,
instead of diary or journal,
decided I love lyrics,
music rhyming holds more compassion,
the most of all.
I moved to Calgary,
due to convenience,
in necessities and resources here,
though my kids are back at home,
their dad,
six hours away,
and this I fear...
So afraid of missing out,
on their childhood,
found with later regret,
lost time,
I can never buy back.
The only way,
it can become constructive,
worthwhile,
able to succeed,
if I quit the crack.
The drug,
which has consumed my whole life,
it’s what put me in this wheelchair,
everything I’ve lost.
This demon,
looks beyond all the others,
leads my life,
I pay ANY cost.
Please God help me,
to help myself,
do not let this demon of a drug,
erase my soul,
steal my destiny.
Please do not let my children,
and I drift further apart,
or lose what touch they have,
to this drug addicted mommy.