Sitting around in a circle of friendship, cigarette smoke filled the air. We were the new recruits in the war against drugs, telling it like it had been.

Some only days ago had been in the heat of battle, a war we waged on ourselves, mistrusting everyone save an elusive feeling, letting personal demons in through holes in our heads and arms.

Angela had been heavied several times, though thinking herself solid as stone. An hour in therapy group convinced her otherwise; reduced to a bucket of tears. A couple of rip offs took all of her junk, then tried to cut off one of her breasts. Lucky for her, a friend stepped in, but the story was far from over.

Others lost family to prison and overdose; that General whose solution is so final, while those less serious but just as important then accounted what happened to them.

Marriages broken and promising relationships swept away in one loud blow. Jobs some were fired from or on the "last chance" brink, the next step Skid Row. Babies would be born, if born at all, with a chemical craving; innocent civilians caught in the cross fire. But for now, we were safe and sound, wounds healing in an environment of promise and hope.

Sitting around in a circle of friendship, the weight of our words filled the air. We were the new recruits in the war against drugs, though without a doubt...some would slip back again.

© 1989
Revised © 1992

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09/24/2016

Author's Note: Dedicated to the Meadow Creek Treatment Facility, Royal Ottawa Psychiatric Hospital, Kanata, Ontario.

Posted on 09/24/2016
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti