Poem: The First Day of Fall


The First Day of Fall

Isolation, all alone, me and my best friend.
Drunken splendors, revelry, drunken illusion.
Through the fog a voice was heard calling in the night.
Clear as a bell I heard it say, “Go to AA” give up the fight.

Falling, falling, falling into a downward spiral,
a progressive fall of drunkenness,
that no longer held desire.

Delusions! I’m hearing things. That voice must be mistaken.
I’m not a drunk. It can’t be true. I was clearly shaken.
To clarify the matter at hand, I asked the Tarot deck.
“You need help” was all I got, from that Tarot pack.

The voice in the night, I didn’t hear. Drunken hallucination.
The cards I dealt had lied to me. Misunderstood rendition.
I knew my family and friends would know of my true condition.
But I was too afraid to ask and continued in my confusion.

As I pondered my dilemma, I looked into the mirror.
But did not recognize the face that looked from out of there.
The person that I saw was sick and I could see her pain.
As I looked right back into her eyes, I could see she was not sane.

Falling, falling, falling into an endless hole,
a progressive fall of powerlessness,
the bottom of my soul.

Three wakeup calls in a row, all the same. It’s true!
I knew deep down inside my heart, what I had to do.
At this point, there was no doubt, that God had spoke to me.
I must be willing to accept his help, to live with this disease.

That next day, I made a date for the First of Fall.
As that fateful day grew near, my fear became a wall.
What if I, didn’t belong? Was this really best?
Am I truly alcoholic? Will I pass their test?

Knowing not my fate at all, I journeyed to the meeting.
Every ounce of me inside wanted to be fleeing.
Trembling, shaking, fearfully, one foot after the other,
Courageously with frozen steps, I forced myself to enter.

Falling, falling, falling into the unknown,
a progressive fall of willingness,
going outside my home.

Behind the doors, amazed to see, what was inside there.
Friendly faces, caring smiles, the smell of coffee in the air.
Another woman, by the grace of God, who was sharing my own plight,
Was there to greet and share with me on that special night.

She and I joined hands right then, supporting one another.
We gathered up our inner strength and we sat down together.
The sacred circle went round and round, as each drunk told their story.
The stories an image of ourselves, but now with hope of recovery.

The words traveled, round to her. She glanced at me, then told her tale.
Oh my God, it’s my turn next. Now I’ll have to speak as well!
As I opened my mouth, my story flew out, at a rapid pace.
I knew what I was when they said to me: “You’ve found the right place.”

Falling, falling, falling, into a world of friends,
a progressive fall of humility,
opening dimensions.

What revelations! I’m not alone, these people see how I feel.
They were here to share their growth, and help each other heal.
There were no leaders I discerned, a higher power I could choose.
I knew at once that I was home, and now had nothing I could lose.

Wakeup calls I had heard, from the voice, the cards and the mirror.
Lessons I had learned, of power, will and humility.
Gratefulness I now did feel, to God, the drunks and Sandy.
Thank you so much my friends, for loving me and sharing.

I was at the turning point, a choice that I could make:
Progression into darkness or progression into light.
Seen this way, inside I knew, the direction I would take,
The next steps of my journey in life, the spiritual path was right.

Falling, falling, falling, into spirituality,
a progressive fall of stepping,
into recovery.

~ Betsy ~
April 1999

This poem was inspired from my decision to join Alcoholics Anonymous and stop drinking. It was the first time I saw clearly that I had a drinking problem. The poem describes what I went through to get my foot in the AA meeting and take my first step. Since that day on the autumnal equinox in 1998, I have had no desire to drink again and have not had one drop. The poem has a melody with it so it’s a kind of song, but as I’m not a musician it still needs to have the music written for it.

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