Joy Manifesto


winter moon

I’m heading out to get some joy.
It’s out there—so I know I can.
I’ll get it using just myself—
my eyes and ears, my heart and hands.
I’ll find it in the woods out back, 
hidden under all that green. 
I’ll catch some in the grassy slew 
where all those red-winged blackbirds sing. 
Nothing beats some hand-held joy,
so I’ll grab a splitting maul.
I’ll hear the crack of breaking oak,
and stack up wood to burn this fall.
At night I’ll count the blinking stars
caught in branches near my roof,
and guess the seconds sunlight spends
on its detour from the moon.
If joy gets hard to find out there,
I’ll make some right inside my mind.
I’ll think of childhood friends I had,
pools I swam and trees I climbed.
I’ll wonder what’s the nearest star
that has a lively world like ours.
I’ll puzzle what size heart it takes
to practice joy-full superpowers.
(Hey—Sometimes I take the joy
that I've hoarded like it's mine
and throw it carelessly away
to clear some space up in my mind.
I spread thank-yous, smiles and hugs,
to those I know and don’t know too,
toss happy words to everyone.
I just get crazy—you should too!)
Sure—life’s road has lots of bumps,
but when the tough parts give me doubts,
I chase down joy, near and far.
I squeeze life hard ‘til joy pops out!
So here's the game plan for us both
(We’ve got to shake off life’s mistakes.)
—practice hunting, thinking joy!
Joy's waiting there for us to take.

Read more: Poems About Life

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