Joy is quiet,
self-effacing.
Not one to draw attention,
but graciously retreating
from the limelight.
So that joy is quiet,
retiring.
Not an obvious presence,
but almost resisting
recognition.
As it waits
for us to notice it.
Joy is quiet,
unobtrusive.
Not bold or authoritative,
it allows us space
to feel what we will.
So that joy may be quiet,
dignified.
Not a forceful influence,
but gliding in
on silent feet.
As it waits,
to fill its place.
And joy is gentle,
constant.
Not one to showcase its strength,
it prefers the backdrop,
to the heroine’s role.
So that joy is soft,
subtle.
Not one to push its way,
but pervading with its fragrance
all the same.
As it waits,
for us to notice it expand.
Yes, joy is faithful,
steadfast.
Not here and gone,
but with an undergirding support
that holds everything.
So that joy is eternal,
ever-springing.
Not a fleeting occurrence,
but a promise that comforts
it is constant assurance,
as it waits
for us to welcome it.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
August 2018
Living Tree Poetry 