Hermeneutics Of Love

Two years it’s been – since prayerful quiet time;
I’d opened up that hermeneutic mine –
Of how, and what, and why, the Big Book came
Into our lives – with life no more the same.

I took you back, shared stories from the past
Of early drunks, set free from booze at last;
How they got mail from other desperate moms,
And wives, employers, kids, and drunken bums:

“Please help!” they cried, “for desperate is our plight”
“I cannot stop – the terrors and the fright
Now overwhelm – send insight of your way
From liquid hell – I long for dawning day.”

But they were swamped; large bags of mail came in;
“How to respond – as we new life begin?
We’re desperate too – to fix our messed-up lives;
We’d love to help – yet we too must survive.”

And then came Bill, “I’ll write, but not from me;
I’ll make a draft; we’ll talk – to errors see;
I’ll fix the text until it’s best for all;
We’ll print it up, then send it out to all.”

Through evenings long, with coffee, midst the smoke
Of cigarettes, cigars, and pipes, each spoke
About their walk – each step described with care;
Bill wrote it down, came back to make repair.

I showed a glimpse of talks they might have had,
Like where they chose to add in details sad
Which show the range, not just one way to walk
Twelve steps to life – how book reflects their talk.

And so, I said, this book love-letter is,
From pioneers so busy with their biz
They could not write response to everyone;
“This worked for us : thus far it’s what we’ve done.”

The book went out – a sigh of deep relief
Arose at once, love-letter’s message sweet;
My mom recalled that day her father said
At lunch – “There’s news – and Big Book I have read –

“At last a way to help these desperate folks;
It seems to work – what grace through words they wrote!”
I showed you how strange lines jumped off the page,
When viewed in context – how the book was made.

Then we returned, re-read the run-up lines
To six and seven, (with four and five done fine);
Unpacked the prayer – laid out each turgid phrase;
“It all is there, unpacking is what pays.”

The key, I said, is underneath the stairs;
Implied it is, not clearly stated there:
“Tow from the ditch – by you, or God you know?
If it’s by you, why pray to God for tow?

If it is God, then stop your messing ’round;
He’ll get you out – the issue’s quite profound:
Who's at the core – is God, or something else?
You can’t avoid that issue – God or self?”

Once you have seen the meaning of those words
Step seven’s prayer will not from you be heard
'Till you agree, at center of all life –
Is God you’ve known – the tow-truck from your strife.

“I’m ready now, I want to pray that prayer;
I’ve long agreed God’s central place is there.”
And so you did – then on to eight and nine;
Two years since then – that prayerful quiet time.

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