Poetry By Lisa O'Neil-Guerci

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​
Thoughts From the Smoking Gazebo

The indigo canvas of sky at dusk
is painted with Indian blanket colors;
flaming reds,
orange,
burnished rust-
as the fervent wishes,
soul bleeding,
fevered pleading,
of the addiction-addled
begins to rise up
from the dust.

Heads once hanging
dare to look up,
and through the clouds
of frozen menthol breath
and smoke
that surrounded
the gazebo
where we gathered between classes,
lectures,
group therapy-

we saw that the sky was sprinkled with
tiny twinkling miracles
of both faith and science,
luminaries we couldn't view before
through the smeared lens of misery.

We named these stars.
hope,
healing,
unity,
as we endeavored
with all our might-
to finally set ourselves free.

Forgiveness
was the brightest star
we longed to see.

Perhaps it was Venus,
bestowing the beauty we would learn to reclaim
when some of us
didn't  feel worthy
to look in a mirror
or even bathe.

And so it was
that we touched knuckles
and clasped hands~
some of which
were still trembling.

The frigid winds
in the hills of Pennsylvania
carried our heart's burdens upwards~
towards that which we didn't
fully know
but desperately wanted to .

For there is no more sincere
or simple prayer than
when forced to our knees
we utter
"Help me,
please".

We learned
that we *are*
still and always
the most precious children
of a universal Benevolence
and the bestowal
of Grace.

We were suffering souls
unified in that place;
fallen angels
getting back up
tentatively...
then more steadily-

with backs bent,
scarred arms,
wings weighed down
with the lead of defeat,
and the lie
called failure,
but we got back on our feet.

The sky heard us,
even more so when we
leaned in to hear
the whispered prayers of others
despite all our fears.

For there is no greater power
than to nod your head
at another's pain,

no star or sparkling planet
more lovely
than the glint of a tear
in an empathetic eye,

no music more lyrical~
than a "me too"
softly sighed.

We were harvested there;
a collective cornucopia...

our bruises
only made the fruit
of our faith
even sweeter.
​



Lisa O'Neil-Guerci is a poet and writer who hails from Putnam County, NY. She works as a professional caregiver and personal assistant within the homebound elderly community. Lisa is devoted to remaining sober and dedicated to being a mother and grandmother. She finds peace and inspiration in reading and writing poetry, cooking, music, and nature. Her debut book of poetry entitled Souldust, (Golden Dragonfly Press) is due to be released next month.