Since Forgotten

Joy can’t be measured
wracked with shame,
forced on a scale,
waiting for calculation-
slack jawed
dumbstruck
in front of a mirror.

Joy isn't measured.
It arrives in chunks and pieces
and tiny grains of sand,
in celebrations and donuts for dinner,
in football highlights on youtube
after a long day
looking for the moon,
in classroom sing alongs
and shared vulnerability,
in dropped D tuning and sparkling water,
salted cucumbers and chocolate covered pretzels.

Joy won’t be measured.
it appears in spurts and gusts
and hurricanes of good news,
in weddings, births and graduations.

Joy is measured only by what is noticed
and named joy-
by the mindfulness awareness
that fading clouds
are not so distant relatives
of tears and oceans,
and the perpetual cycles
you learned to name
but have since forgotten.