I know you have tried time and again;
I see the heartache you suffer;
I feel the pain you endure in defeat.
God knows I want to fix you,
but, I can’t.
Every time you fall to its allure,
and it entices you to partake,
every time you stumble in weakness,
I fall with you and I stumble with you.
We harbor the same demons.
When you become numb in your stupor,
when you lapse into the world of unknown,
when you cry to me for help
my plea for your relief goes to God.
It’s all I can do.
We talk the next day about recovery;
we promise to try harder, do better;
we hope this time to kindle a spark,
that your 1st day of recovery is today.
But, I can’t fix it.
Only an imaginary wall separates us.
One slip and I’m on your side.
One miracle and you’re on mine.
We are a brotherhood of brokenness,
some victorious, some suffering.
Your demons are also mine.
They search our souls for weakness.
They attack in moments of foolishness.
Where you go, I also go for we are one
separated only by God’s grace.
Certainly there is no credit I should assume.
Our paths were as one in our addictions.
The bars were different, the cities different
yet even so, we destined ourselves to the same fate
because we are brothers in brokenness.
Was I special? Was I stronger or more loved?
Why was I the one chosen for recovery
while my brother continues to suffer?
Is it God’s choice or simply a matter of chance?
I wish I could fix it.
cunning, baffling, powerful