Ten Years

I cannot remember ten years ago

Perhaps the days have been both good and bad

I am still here, which is good I suppose

There are no photographs or memories

Nothing to celebrate – no photographs or memories

Inside I whisper to myself – I am still here

I have very few intentions – keep sober, stay safe(er)

At the moment that feels enough

My skin can account for ten years

The absences and hallucinations also

They ring as loud and clear as church bells

I am lucky that I have more chances – or choices

I hope the next ten years will be softer and gentler

That I will continue to tend the fire inside.