joy

sometimes 

I fear 

I’ll never 

learn 

how

to truly

handle 

the joy

I fumble it 

overlook it 

doubt it 

resent it 

watch it come

and pass 

right through 

right past 

my earnest 

hopeful 

hands

survival 

makes joy 

feel offensive 

or cruel 

like a tease 

or a taunt 

that it never 

actually is 

how can I 

laugh 

when I’m 

languishing 

to live? 

how can I 

be present 

to participate 

to partake

when I need 

to remain 

ever watchful 

ever vigilant 

to avoid being 

hurt again?

how strange 

how inconvenient

how infuriating

that avoiding

the hurt,

the inescapable pain

inherent to

wholehearted living, 

means evading 

the joy too 

maybe

I just 

don’t have the 

courage yet 

to be hurt again 

and so

maybe 

I don’t have the 

courage to 

hold the joy 

yet either.  

I see 

now

my efforts 

to heal, 

my search 

for safety,

my pursuit  

of integration,  

has less 

to do with

dealing with trauma

per se

and more 

to do with 

dealing with joy

and maybe

that’s the best 

reason to heal 

in the end –

to be 

able to 

welcome 

joy 

back

into your body, 

to 

courageously 

embrace it, 

just 

as you did 

the sorrow,

and to discover 

a newfound

peace 

in the 

embrace 

of the 

vulnerability 

of it all. 

while

it seems,

for now, 

my body 

still prefers 

safety

rather than 

joy –

i remain

hopeful

of newer 

horizons,

hopeful

that

maybe

healing

is worthwhile 

after all.