the poet

there must be joy and fulfilling happiness,

ive seen exultations, ive seen shooting fists,

stabbing the space above where triumph is.

there must be joy and fulfilling happiness,

ive heard jubilant sobs, and the clinking croaks

fingers clutching glasses sharing in toasts,

for the waiting world the heavy breath,

of a  anxious truth to be told.

there is joy and there is happy to be known

the poet just does not know it.