"DRUNKS

for my father, and the people who almost saved his life

 

 We died of pneumonia in furnished rooms

         where they found us three days later

         when somebody complained about the smell

         we died against bridge abutments

         and nobody knew if it was suicide

         and we probably didn't know either

         except in the sense that it was always suicide

         we died in hospitals

         our stomachs huge, distended

         and there was nothing they could do

         we died in cells

         never knowing whether we were guilty or not.

 

         We went to priests

         they gave us pledges

         they told us to pray

         they told us to go and sin no more, but go

         we tried and we died

 

         we died of overdoses

         we died in bed (but usually not the Big Bed)

         we died in straitjackets

         in the DTs seeing God knows what

         creeping skittering slithering

         shuffling things

 

         And you know what the worst thing was?

         The worst thing was that

         nobody ever believed how hard we tried

 

         We went to doctors and they gave us stuff to take

         that would make us sick when we drank

         on the principle of so crazy, it just might work, I guess

         or maybe they just shook their heads

         and sent us places like Dropkick Murphy's

         and when we got out we were hooked on paraldehyde

         or maybe we lied to the doctors

         and they told us not to drink so much

         just drink like me

         and we tried

         and we died

 

         we drowned in our own vomit

         or choked on it

         our broken jaws wired shut

         we died playing Russian roulette

         and people thought we'd lost

         but we knew better

         we died under the hoofs of horses

         under the wheels of vehicles

         under the knives and bootheels of our brother drunks

         we died in shame

 

         And you know what was even worse?

         was that we couldn't believe it ourselves

         that we had tried

         we figured we just thought we tried

         and we died believing that we hadn't tried

         believing that we didn't know what it meant to try

 

         When we were desperate enough

         or hopeful or deluded or embattled enough to go for help

         we went to people with letters after their names

         and prayed that they might have read the right books

         that had the right words in them

         never suspecting the terrifying truth

         that the right words, as simple as they were

         had not been written yet

 

         We died falling off girders on high buildings

         because of course ironworkers drink

         of course they do

         we died with a shotgun in our mouth

         or jumping off a bridge

         and everybody knew it was suicide

         we died under the Southeast Expressway

         with our hands tied behind us

         and a bullet in the back of our head

         because this time the people that we disappointed

         were the wrong people

         we died in convulsions, or of "insult to the brain"

         we died incontinent, and in disgrace, abandoned

         if we were women, we died degraded,

         because women have so much more to live up to

         we tried and we died and nobody cried

 

         And the very worst thing

         was that for every one of us that died

         there were another hundred of us, or another thousand

         who wished that we could die

         who went to sleep praying we would not have to wake up

         because what we were enduring was intolerable

         and we knew in our hearts

         it wasn't ever gonna change

 

         One day in a hospital room in New York City

         one of us had what the books call

         a transforming spiritual experience

         and he said to himself

 

         I've got it

         (no you haven't you've only got part of it)

 

         and I have to share it

         (now you've ALMOST got it)

 

         and he kept trying to give it away

         but we couldn't hear it

         the transmission line wasn't open yet

         we tried to hear it

         we tried and we died

 

         we died of one last cigarette

         the comfort of its glowing in the dark

         we passed out and the bed caught fire

         they said we suffocated before our body burned

         they said we never felt a thing

         that was the best way maybe that we died

         except sometimes we took our family with us

 

         And the man in New York was so sure he had it

         he tried to love us into sobriety

         but that didn't work either, love confuses drunks

         and he tried and still we died

         one after another we got his hopes up

         and we broke his heart

         because that's what we do

 

         And the worst thing was that every time

         we thought we knew what the worst thing was

         something happened that was worse

 

         Until a day came in a hotel lobby

         and it wasn't in Rome, or Jerusalem, or Mecca

         or even Dublin, or South Boston

         it was in Akron, Ohio, for Christ's sake

 

         a day came when the man said I have to find a drunk

         because I need him as much as he needs me

         (NOW you've got it)

 

         and the transmission line

         after all those years

         was open

         the transmission line was open

 

         And now we don't go to priests

         and we don't go to doctors

         and people with letters after their names

         we come to people who have been there

         we come to each other

         and we try

         and we don't have to die

                                                                        â€"Jack McCarthy"

As an alcoholic, I can say that that poem had impact and that I feel for the first poster.

Life kinda sucks without peace with God, and alcohol makes it that much more miserable.

So glad I'm addicted.

We get reminders every day, if we choose to see them.  I'm grateful to have a choice today.

ODAT