It was a heavy joy
That overtook me
Took my voice away
Stilled the noise
And no more was to be heard
For quite a time
I sat rocking
Until the room emptied
Until I was alone
And quite occupied
With the essence
Of things.
Can a mind be so full
It stops
In shock?

It was a heavy joy
This morning
That kept me bound to myself.
Odd, joy usually frees
I worried afterwards that it wasn’t joy at all
But a peak into responsibility
Like a brief flash of color through the fingers of a
Clenched fist
And an inkling there is more to be seen.

I am at the cusp of things.
They are coming.
My father told me I am in an open field,
vast and un-cut by desire-paths
to walk forward? Run?
Or sit. And wait?
I vacillate between options and make myself

It was a heavy joy
Because I understood
That my essence is bound to His.
It was too deep to know.
It just is.
It was a heavy joy because I could not know it.
And I sensed it at the periphery
And I begged for it to enter me.
To burst open inside me and fill and fill and pour and rage
But my stiff, plodding brain was too base, too coarse
And it shielded me from the joy.

I felt that joy once.
Light as sunbeams, air dust motes, floating winds, cream puff,
It was everything.
I remember a smile pouring off my face, cheeks fell away in joy-tears, cascading into rivers and I was under the waterfall of that joy and
I panicked.
I jolted my ego out of that place
In the fear I would never come back. Because how to be in the face of that joy? To be at all? I ran out onto the balcony and little plastic streamers fluttered and laughter slipped from my mouth because I knew it was all from that joy
I turned and saw a girl and her face was shining. And by night time it was a memory.

Just a memory.

A heavy joy is not so bad when I can carry it into the night.