Joy

 

 

Glowing lights hover across a hillside as dusk wanes,

Slowly blinking off and on in gentle andantino dances.

We whisk empty jelly jars trying to cage fireflies

That elude us with ease in the cool, Appalachian

Summer air, misty with sweet allysum and wisteria.

A dislocated nostalgia for I know not what, bruises

My heart; and the music of the day I am exposed to,

Banal and fabulous-Beethoven, Gershwin, the Starland

Vocal Band-saturates my head. This soundtrack to all I am

Seeing and feeling is drawing me toward something much

Greater, an iceberg's tip, or the unforeseen indigo canopy

As the boat spills over the falls and dumps you between

The galleon and the fortress in the Disney Pirate's ride,

The stillness of the air standing the hair on your neck.

Trying to locate the exact moment I felt my spirit lift

Into happiness untouched by creation is impossible,

I'd recognize it just as it was fading away: in the synth

Polyphony of Yes' "Roundabout," verses on mountains

Coming out of the sky, ten true summers and being

There; in the music at the end of a Peter Sellers movie,

As Chance the Gardner steps onto the pond, a President

Eulogizes a businessman's funeral, and a meandering

Improv based on a Satie tune seems inevitable; in the

Sci-fi coloring books with frames from "I, Robot,"

"The Island of Dr. Moreau," and "Stranger in a Strange

Land," the wide loops and arcing lines of those images,

Cool sparks of joy leading to an unknown God St. Paul

Made known to Athenians in the Book of Acts, Who my

God-mother Therese gave me small, glossy, paperback

Picture books about, that stoked my longing for purity,

Goodness, and righteousness, drawing me ever closer

To an all-loving, pitch-perfect Composer of my faith.

~Poem originally appeared in A Time of Singing Journal