Day 299: Contractual Joy

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isn’t joy such a luxury?
an indulgence to be rationed?

it is a rare little pebble
that finds its way into the shoe;
and is promptly plucked out
for fear of putting us off balance.

i fancy emotions
to be like little contracts:
they yield respective dividends.

i am angry and harvest angst.
i am sad and gather sorrow.
i am blithe and gain laughter.
i am joy and recoup mirth.

contracts care not
for the outcome,
but bear one, nonetheless.

⋅

there is a story of a saint.

she was being killed –
as saints oftentimes are –
and she began to sing.

she sang and sang until her life poured out and away
and suffused the air with joy filled notes.

even her executioner wept and smiled
from the beauty of it all.

 

i think about that sometimes,
when the dog won’t sit
or the girl is cruel
or the man is cold and hollow.

and i pour my little tunes
into dish tubs like dictums
and knead my te deums in time.

how can i keep from singing?

∴

 

 

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