Why would I want to remember
the bad old days, days of shame,
years of isolation, of self-loathing,
of insanity and powerlessness,
of despair? How could I describe
fear, resentment, surrendering
to my baseness, to my depravity?
Isn’t it just more self-destruction?
So it would seem, but no!
Not at all. My story, not just the bad,
but adding the recovery, the victory,
the hope and peace and joy!
When the whole is told, when others hear
and find hope as they see someone kin
who found answers, a way out…
then there is joy not just in the hearing
but in the telling as well!