The Fear that Follows Joy

Witnessing joy is blissful—

The most amazing feeling one can have.

Heart flutters, can’t stop smiling,

Everything just feels good.

But wait—

That’s what I’ve heard about joy.

I’ve never felt it that way.

My mind isn’t trained to handle joy;

All I know is to keep it at bay.

There’s something soothing in sorrow—

You’re already at your worst,

Can't get more hollow,

No further depth to burst.

And then comes flying fear—

What if it’s all taken away in a blow?

What if God, watching, punishes

With another tragedy I don’t yet know?

What if my celebration is uncalled for,

While people around me ache in silence?

What if real joy is meant to be hidden

Under the weight of quiet compliance?

My mind rehearses tragedies so well—

The line between joy and sorrow blurs.

It all begins to feel the same,

As if both are ghosts I serve.

The castles of the future grow heavy,

Built too high on fragile ground.

I almost wish the moment would end,

Just to stop the pressure to feel profound.

So I sit with joy and fear alike,

Not chasing one, not fleeing the other.

Maybe feeling deeply is its own kind of brave

To let the heart be soft,

Even when it doesn’t know how to recover.