Joy Comes In The Mourning

We look for Joy where Joy is not.  In Happiness, that instead we find. in the doings of things. that we can do.  to make us.  Happy.  In Work, that we find.  to make us. feel fulfilled. Needed. Reimbursed. with a pat on the back, money in hand, a thank you, a smile. from God. of gratefulness.  for a job well done. Serving us up a full plate. of happiness.  

Yes.

We find Happiness.  In the sharing of food and laughter and good times with loved ones.  We find happiness.  Walking on the sunny side of the street.  To drop off a covered dish for someone who lives, now, where the sun no longer shines.  On the other side of the street.  Where we run with our happy feet.  And then hurry back over, to pick up our own four leaf clover.  To find relief.  From Their Grief.  So we can once again sing songs.  Of rainbows and roses and God's sweet kisses on noses.  Of sunshiny rays and summer days.  Of miracles abounding, can't you hear the sounding?  That sting. when they ring, in the ears of Silence.  Loneliness.  Death.  and Pain.  Our songs of "great joy" rain.  From our high seated glory cloud chairs, our lofty mountain prayers.  Never reach.  will not breach.  through.  wooden cross-filled pews.  no.  they cannot go.  into the deep dark night blue. depths upon depths.  as deep calls to deep.  Of Sorrow.  Suffering.  And Despair.

We look for Joy where Joy is not.  

Because we will only find Joy. when we are unable to look.  For the tears, that cloud our eyes. cover our skies. from the day.  

It's dark where the sun no longer shines

where grapes will not grow on the vines

on the dark side of the street

where our tears keep collecting at our feet

inside our walled off tombs

our endless night wombs

Of The Mourning

No.

Joy.  we will not find.  On the sunny side of the street.  In fields of clover.  Gushing over.  With songs.  Of sunshine.  that make us happy.  when skies are gray.

And Joy.  we do not choose.  When we have been left.  alone.  with Pain. and Its dark red stain.  in the midst. of our This.  With the weight of the world crushing our soul.

And Joy.  We can not look for.  having been dis. abled.  our hopes tabled.  When our heart has all it can do to just keep beating.  For the bleeding.  And our mind.  Has all it can do to survive.  Trying not to die.  And our strength.  has been dried up.  Like our bones. now brittle. how they whittle. away.  And our soul.  Oh, our soul.  It is crushed.  by the weight of the world.  Within.

NO.  

Joy.  We will not find.  We do not choose.  We can not look for.  Don't want to look for.  For where Joy is found.  If we're honest.

Joy.  Is only found.  In the Wee Small Hours of the Mourning.  When our whole world is fast asleeping.  To our weeping.  From our cloud covered eyes that now darken our skies.  Joy, we will find, has crossed.over.from His fields of clover.  to be with us in the midst.  Of our This. On our dark side of the street.  where Joy wades in with our feet.  to our deep blue. pools. of our tears. and fears. that echo in our tombs, inside these lonely cold wombs. of the Mourning.  Joy.  we will find.  In our Pain. soaked in the dark red Stain.  Where only rain.  Drops.  drop.  Guilt.  Doubt.  And Despair.  From our weary heavy-laden lids.  behind which doubt is hid.  hissing.  your God is missing.

But Joy.

Comes.  Suddenly.  Like a Thief in This Night.  into our plight. We feel.  To steal. in beside us. to sit.  Still. Silently.  and stay.  until Day.  

Joy does not drag us, weeping, covered in ash, hanging by the skin of our teeth.  To the sunny side of the street.  To forget our troubles and just be happy.  To listen to and obey the bootstraps, the same ones that slap. us.

No.

Joy.  Bends down.  removes His crown.  to lay down. next to ours, His weary head.  eat our worm-filled bread.  in our tear and fear-filled echoing lonely tombs, share our bleeding heart wounds, inside our deep dark wombs.  of The Mourning. 

Joy.  Bows over before us. lowers His heavy laden shoulder to cover us.  To wipe tears from our lids.  behind which doubt remains hid.  hissing.  your God is missing. 

Still.  

Joy.  Rests. on our chests. to stop the bleeding.  that our heart might begin again beating. 

Joy.  Stays. until Day.  Until.  This Night has passed. by.  with its why's.  Until Pain.  Sorrow.  And Suffering.  Cease.  For Peace.  Until.  Our dark womb of the mourning.  Breaks.  Through. Our blue.  with the Dawn.   Of Mercy.

We look for Joy where Joy is not.  And find Joy when we are unable to look.  where we don't want to look.  if we're honest.

don't we see?

Joy.  Comes.  in the Mourning.  of our Sin.  our Suffering.  and our Sorrow.  until our Mercy of Tomorrow. 

Joy comes. only for the sinners and sufferers and sorrowers.  Not because we've gone looking.  Up.  On the bright side.  On the sunny side of the street, if we would just cross over, into your fields of four leaf clovers.  As if we could.  when we can look no where but down.  into a grave, now filled, with our loved one.  down.  into the ash, of our sin.  that is ever before us.  down.  at the tears. and the fears.  that keep collecting at our feet.  Wash down and drown our empty streets.  

where we find the wounded hands and side and feet.

of Joy.

with us.  in our walled off tombs.  in our endless night wombs.  Of our Mourning. 

YES.

Joy

Comes

in The Mourning.

that's where we find Joy

Has really

if we're honest

found us

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