Work Text:
Joy is the crow’s feet
at the edge of my smiling eyes, or the burble
of laughter from my little brother. Joy is the hot tears
that waterfall down my cheeks
as catharsis settles over my soul
like a warm blanket on a frigid day. Joy is
the absence of the terrible weight I carried
for far too long.
And after that comes
the joy of my hushed and unhurried heart.
I believe
joy is the opening
of my eyes to a new day, the deep breath taken
after scaling the mountain, or after surviving
the storm.