Joy

I am glad that words aren’t all that we have. I am glad that they aren’t all we share. I am glad that you can hear me even when I make no verbal utterances and that you understand me without having read a note on the state of my heart.

For if everything you did to and with me and if everything I wanted to tell you had to be articulated by speech or in writing, I fear that the inadequacy of human languages would not capture even a glimpse of our hearts’ deepest truths.

Sometimes mere groanings speak volumes. On other days, the salt in my tears seems to reach much further than my elaborate essays. Sunshine and rain, earth and fire, colour and melody...we share so much more than a few ‘how do you dos’ and ‘have a good days’.

I am glad.

Ambushed by Joy

I have been fortunate enough to see joy in those around me

It’s in the eyes of a child when his father or mother picks him up an swings him around

It’s on the face of he whose beloved is in sight or in thought

It’s in the sunrise, as the sun’s radiance flushes the darkness away

It’s in the rain, refreshingly real

It’s in the laughter of friends

And in the hands of the dedicated worker

It’s in my father’s smile when he speaks of me

And in my mother’s warm embrace

And in Sunday lunch

I see it around me

Everywhere

But I still fight it;

I keep it from getting into me

Afraid that it may be a passing illusion

A child’s game

Fool’s play

Then you came along and I yearn for it once more

I did not see or expect it

My choice was to walk this path with you

Your gift for me was

Joy