“And we have ceased fighting anything or anyone, even alcohol.”*
“During World War I, on December 24, 1914, there was an unofficial ceasefire as France, the United Kingdom, and Germany observed Christmas. No treaty was signed, and the war resumed after a few days.”§
The fighting words keep flying,
aimed at me, pushing my buttons,
lighting the fires of fear, of fury,
with ammunition that seems to fall
short of the goal, to slough off
without phasing except to cause
more insults, more derision.
So when can I cease the fighting,
find that sanity lost so long ago?
I can take my marbles and quit,
leave him empty-handed, wanting me
to up the ante. I can unplug my buttons,
make them empty shells, go my way
in peace. Maybe he will cease,
if only for a moment.
Maybe I can change the rules,
opting at this moment,
the only one I have,
*Alcoholics Anonymous: the “Big Book” (The key text of Alcoholics Anonymous)
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