Happiness, for me, is being quiet,

not lonely but being in the gentle presence

of those I love,

an easy cycle of breathing and belonging

that steadies the frantic pulse

of everyday life.

 

To sit in stillness

without rushing to fill the air

with unnecessary sound,

to listen and to observe 

until i know when to speak

with honesty, thought and with love.

 

There is comfort in small rituals,

the aroma of good coffee,

“Desert Island Disks” percolating through the room like a familiar hand on my shoulder,

The smell of something cooking 

a promise that soon we will gather

around a table,

Friends and family gathered 

into a single moment of joy.

 

A glass of wine,

the hush that follows laughter,

and later when the night grows near and

solitude returns.

I sit with my thoughts and count my blessings,

Safe, warm, fed, and loved,

as lucky as anyone could hope to be.

 

I shed a tear for those who are not,

for lives lived in darkness and fear

I can hardly start to imagine.

With my happiness comes guilt,

Troubling and humbling,

And I hold it uncomfortably within,

a reminder to remain grateful for my comfort.

 

And as sleep gathers me

into the arms of Morpheus,

I offer up a thank you to the universe,

for my peace, for love I receive 

and for the chance to bask in both.