Alcoholics

It’s easy to see
That when we talk about ourselves
We refer to nothing stable

And the primary unstable thing
We refer to, are our social identities

Yet, for most people
From birth till death — this is life
Identities come, change, leave — and somehow
They maintain a sense
Of a stable self — resting upon
Their social identities

An alcoholic on the other hand
Is a prototype — a case study
Unique, ordinary person
For whom
Seeing of the unstable identity
Shifting and changing self
Happens day after day
Night after night
For years — decades

Those around him also see
This person, being one person
In the morning, and another
In the evening

They may wish, desperately even
That he were some
Stable self — knowing
That they themselves have no
Stable self

But he knows it more acutely
Repetitively, addictively, consciously
Unconsciously and persistently

That there is not
In him — a stable self

And one wonders —
If alcoholism were not pathologised
Medicalised, criminalised
Marginalised

Alcoholics might not
Be congregated in meetings and rehabs
Confessing, being ashamed
For their insight
Vowing to construct and uphold
A stable self

And they might
Instead be
Just those ordinary folks
To whom, we sometimes went
For guidance, for wisdom