10 Years ago I was spending my first night in Rehab, having the usual messy librium detox.

My thanks go to AA, my family and friends. My life is a million times better than those days on the piss and given when I came in I only wanted the crap to stop,  I’ve been fortunate to have been catapulted in a life beyond my wildest dreams surrounded by love.

I’d also like to thank all the folks that have stopped by and left comments on this little website, I’m rubbish at responding but your thoughts and words are always appreciated.

JohnD

Had a fantastic weekend at the Winchester Convention this weekend. The first meeting was in Winchester Cathedral for the first time and was incredibly powerful especially when thinking as mentioned on the first page of the big book Bill W was there all those years ago and saw the tomb stone with the quote.

“Here lies a Hampshire Grenadier Who caught his death Drinking cold small beer. A good soldier is ne´er forgot Whether he dieth by musket Or by pot.”

The whole weekend had a great atmosphere with some fantastic speakers and tissues for leaky eyes were needed at times. My thanks to all who did service to make this weekend happen. At the closing meeting the following poem was read which I loved.

I Am Not A Duck

I may look like a Duck and walk like a Duck
and quack like a Duck and drink like a Duck
but I am NOT a Duck. I am an Eagle in Disguise.

But if you could prove to me that it is respectable to be a Duck,
I might consider being one.
But don`t waste your time… my mind is made up.
I think it is shameful to be a Duck. I won`t be a Duck.

It`s so lonely here among all these Ducks. I am so out of place here.
But for some reason, none of the other Eagles will have anything to do with me.
Why are Eagles so cruel?
Some of the Ducks are quite nice. It`s too bad I`m an Eagle.

No, it isn`t! I`m glad I`m an Eagle.
Even if I WERE a Duck, I wouldn`t stay a Duck. I would become an Eagle.
I can be anything I want to be and I owe it to myself to be an Eagle.
Ducks are terrible. I hate Ducks.

I keep trying to swoop down and grab a rabbit in my claws.
But I can`t do it, I have webbed feet.
It`s all the Lords`s fault. Why would make an Eagle with webbed feet?
If I starve to death, The Lord will have only herself to blame.
I do my part…why doesn`t she do hers?

The Ducks all want to help me. But how can they?
What does a Duck know about an Eagle`s problems?
Why can`t they mind their own business?
Why don`t the Eagles offer to help? Someday I`ll get even with those Eagles.
I hate them. I`m beginning to like Ducks better than I do Eagles.

Being an Eagle is killing me. Not being a Duck is killing me.
I don`t know what`s killing me. I just know I`m dying.
Help me Spirit, Spirit help me.
Guess what Lord!
I am a Duck…wether I like it or not…I`m a Duck.

Why didn`t you tell me? I have forgotten how to act.
Show me Lord, how to be a Duck. Help me. Help me be a good Duck.
Ducks are the best people in the World. I love Ducks.
I`m grateful to be a Duck

© by John Foster, USA