The World Will Follow Joy Read online

  whenever I want!

  And that is just a taste

  as the old people used to say

  down in Georgia

  when I was a child

  of what you get

  for getting old.

  Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity

  about them, that no matter the losses, there’s

  something fabulous going on at every stage

  of Life, something to let go of, maybe, but for

  darn sure, something to get!

  ***

  Desire

  My desire

  is always the same; wherever Life

  deposits me:

  I want to stick my toe

  & soon my whole body

  into the water.

  I want to shake out a fat broom

  & sweep dried leaves

  bruised blossoms

  dead insects

  & dust.

  I want to grow

  something.

  It seems impossible that desire

  can sometimes transform into devotion;

  but this has happened.

  And that is how I’ve survived:

  how the hole

  I carefully tended

  in the garden of my heart

  grew a heart

  to fill it.

  ***

  March Births

  Many brave souls

  who inhabit my heart

  entered the brightening

  but still chilly door

  of earthly Life in the changeable month

  of March.

  The deep, noble, easily bruised

  Pisceans

  Flowers

  Themselves

  Arrived in that part of the month

  when hardly one white or lavender

  crocus, daring, vulnerable

  & sweet

  can be found;

  except perhaps

  in the prescient

  South.

  And those others:

  the late in the month

  born

  Ariesians—

  Dragons

  And butterflies—

  Who were born

  it seems

  to set this world

  of shyness

  & daffodils

  stunningly

  on fire.

  It was my destiny

  to behold and to cherish

  you all.

  What these births

  at winter’s end

  teach us to believe

  is that what looks

  frozen or even dead

  may burst into bloom

  unexpectedly

  at any time.

  That to love

  another,

  any other, is to align oneself

  with eternal spring.

  It is in fact

  Loving

  any other being

  all one ever needs

  one’s self

  To come to bud

  & flower

  once more

  & be born

  Again.5

  ***

  Two boys on a pink tricycle

  Sometimes we fall in love

  With a people

  For reasons

  They might never know.

  For instance,

  In Dharamsala

  In the foothills of

  The Himalayas

  We met a beautiful man

  Whose life

  Was children.

  How to find them,

  Feed them,

  Ferry them across

  The mountains

  In the snow.

  There were many

  Who were motherless

  But everywhere

  All around their new home

  Was cleanliness

  Colorfulness

  And light.

  Two boys on a pink tricycle

  Caught my heart

  And then a little girl

  Born to boss

  The world someday

  Strode by

  All two and a half years

  Of her.

  Our friend, her guardian,

  Smiled at my delight.

  These children he said

  Come to us over the mountains

  Sometimes their parents

  Die along the way.

  Sometimes

  These are the children

  Of lovers

  Who have met in sorrow

  And surprise

  Along the route

  Away from home

  On the path that leads

  To a new life

  They have no real idea

  About.

  These are the children

  Created by the love

  That can flourish

  In the oddest of situations

  The strangest

  Of places.

  We know they bring with them

  Their parents’ courage

  Their bravery

  In the face

  Of every kind of threat.

  That they are special

  And destined to be

  Grown-up and if at all possible

  Happy and connected

  To who their parents were

  Is well known

  To us.

  ***

  Coming to Worship the 1,000-Year-Old Cherry Tree

  Life is good. Goodness is its character;

  all else is defamation.

  The Earth is good. Goodness is its nature.

  Nature is good. Goodness is its essence.

  People are also good. Goodness is our offering;

  our predictable yet unfathomable flowering.

  Thankful and encouraged

  Infused with our peaceful inheritance

  May we not despair.

  ***

  Listening to Bedouins, Thinking of Bob

  Sometimes I look at your photograph

  And I wonder: where did your smile go

  When you died;

  Where could such a sunrise hide?

  Is it still out there among the foliage and the hills

  The trees and the grass?

  I believe it is there.

  That we will find it waiting

  To ferry us

  On those days our hearts are heavy

  with the pain of this world

  And our own tears are the deep river

  We must cross.

  ***

  Peonies

  For Oprah Winfrey

  Years ago you sent me peonies

  too many to actually count

  in a green glass vase

  so huge

  that it reminded me of the sea.

  You must have discerned

  through my incessant

  word droppings

  —compost for my life—

  how much I treasure them:

  more than food itself,

  when I was young.

  And did you also know this flower

  the peony

  is one of few that requires

  the help of others

  in order to bloom?

  That its indispensable friend

  is the tiny ant

  who, drawn to its sweetness,

  opens it up?

  Each and every Springtime

  it does this.

  Walking today

  I thought of this solidarity, and of you, as I turned

  toward home.

  I wanted to praise all that you have given

  us.

  I was going to start by mentioning

  Hatshepsut, the queen who ruled

  Ancient Egypt

  as king of all the lands.

  But then realized

  something closer to home and even more eternal:

  You are the peony, sister;

  you are also the ant.

  We thank you f
or biting through your

  own restrictions

  and blooming

  so fearlessly

  all these years,

  affirming in brilliant color and sound

  our own need to open

  and helping us out.

  ***

  Black and White Cows

  When you were little I delighted

  in every word you uttered.

  You were so clever!

  For instance: the word “utter.”

  Holding your small hand to my throat

  to feel why the word “utter” is so different

  from the word “bark”

  you wondered aloud:

  So is it the same with cows?

  You know, do cows

  have them. Utters?

  No, I said

  udder is different

  it is something

  that carries milk.

  You liked milk

  especially chocolate.

  Oh, you said, getting it

  right away:

  Utter I speak!

  Udder I drink!

  Close enough

  I said,

  adoring you.

  We spent the morning

  quietly sipping mugs of dark cocoa

  smiling a lot

  drawing & then painting

  black and white cows.

  ***

  Worms Won’t Need a Menu

  For my “girls”

  I am glad

  You will never

  See

  Menus

  All over

  The world

  On which

  Your flesh

  Appears

  In thousands

  Of

  Seductive

  ways.

  I console

  Myself: Worms

  Won’t need

  A menu

  To describe

  Their human

  Dinners.

  Still,

  I like to imagine

  Them

  Sitting alert

  At table

  Reading

  Of

  Our

  Succulence.

  ***

  From Paradise to Paradise

  From paradise

  to paradise

  I go

  sweeping;

  collecting

  rocks

  &

  views;

  owning

  nothing

  but what I feel.

  Who taught

  me this?

  This thankfulness?

  You did.

  Maker of all

  Paradises.

  Without borders

  or cessation.

  Bowing

  as

  I kneel.

  ***

  Sailing the Hot Streets of Athens, Greece

  It has been so

  hot!

  Is it hot

  where you are?

  Penned up

  in a destroyed

  place?

  In Gaza?

  The whole world

  distracted

  by its weathers

  & other

  disasters

  still is watching

  us,

  Gaza,

  as we yearn

  towards each other.

  Trying to embrace

  each other

  to give each

  other,

  to ourselves

  united,

  a simple

  hug.

  The whole world

  is watching

  Gaza

  & it is

  wondering how

  things

  will

  turn out.

  They are making

  it hard

  for us to move

  Gaza

  & sometimes

  we are

  in despair

  but I remind

  us

  that you

  of all people

  understand

  obstruction.

  They know this place

  we are in, I say,

  of not

  being able to move.

  They know it

  intimately.

  This place of stalemate

  & stagnation, so unbearable

  to any heart

  that’s free

  is where they

  hourly

  live.

  They will forgive

  us

  if we do not

  arrive

  on time.

  Furthermore,

  having left our

  own homes

  we are

  already

  there.

  I believe

  with all my heart

  in the magic

  and the power

  of intention.

  The women & men

  with cameras

  come

  to record

  our dreams

  & our frustrations;

  most of them are

  young

  & we are glad

  of this.

  We want them

  to see their

  counterparts

  & their elders

  attempting to make

  this voyage

  to endure

  this crossing.

  We pray they

  are of good heart

  & balanced

  mind.

  Even

  the spies

  among them

  we hope

  will learn

  something

  they may never

  have guessed

  before:

  That a boat

  filled

  with love letters

  from children

  is a threat

  to those

  with

  apparently

  little memory

  of youth

  or experience

  of love.

  I have given

  my word that I would

  sail

  and so I do—if not

  on our boat

  that is not so far

  allowed to go

  to sea,

  then through

  the air sending

  thoughts and feelings

  I sail:

  We all sail.

  We sail the hot, sticky

  streets

  of Athens, Greece

  longing to see

  the faces

  & deliver

  love letters

  to the people

  of Gaza.

  ***

  Written on our beautiful boat whose canopy is a giant

  peaceful American flag, as we sailed the waters off

  the coast of Greece and were intercepted by armed

  commandos of the Greek coast guard.

  Life Takes Its Own Sweet Time

  Life takes

  its own

  sweet time

  to configure

  just the wound

  to stagger us:

  so we may never forget

  who runs the show

  in these territories.

  For years

  we may circle

  the puncture

  soundlessly

  running mental fingers

  around its edges

  as if fearing

  a drain

  that might suck away

  the soul.

  A decade might pass

  in silence

  before we once again

  test our timid

  voice

  to shout inside the wound

  & discover

  the miracle:

  that where pain has lived

  so resplendently

  for so long />
  there now resides

  an insouciant

  exuberance

  to match

  our

  newly revealed

  and

  irrepressible smile.

  ***

  One Meaning of the Immaculate Heart

  To hate no one

  & nothing:

  this is one meaning

  of the “immaculate

  heart”

  that I did not understand

  before.

  To see

  every human

  blunder

  no matter

  how stinking

  as an odious

  misuse

  of God.

  ***

  To Stand Beaming and Clapping

  To stand beaming and clapping for anyone

  who bombs water

  & denies to children

  its purity to drink

  endangers you,

  made mostly of water

  as you are.

  See this. Before it is too late.

  ***

  And in that sacred time

  For h. e.

  And in that sacred time

  as we quietly awaited our fate

  we spoke of offspring

  who have discovered

  so much to resist bearing

  in us.

  Well, we might have said

  if we had thought

  of it;

  as we

  watched

  through a porthole

  of our boat

  black booted

  boarders

  with guns

  make

  a starboard

  approach:

  there are children

  who’ve never heard

  about our

  misadventures

  or in any case

  not all of them:

  (we would offer full disclosure if they might ask):

  waiting

  to see

  and perhaps understand our failures

  for themselves

  on the bombed

  and barricaded beach

  still so far away

  in Gaza.

  ***

  Why Peace Is Always a Good Idea

  For Jacqui Hairston, with love

  Because you could plant peach trees

  And because of peace

  You could eat them in five or six

  Years

  Peaches not trees

  And your children

  Could eat them

  After you are gone!

  And because you could not see

  A friend for a long, long time