Joy.

Joy is the hush before the birds begin,

the breath before my thoughts arrive,

a quiet that sits with me,

like warm cotton and early light.

It is the stretch of sun on the wall,

the soft sound of my feet on the floor,

the still knowing that I am here,

with breath in my chest

and peace in the room.

Joy is waking up to God before anything moves,

before I speak, before the world calls,

just Him and me,

in a silence that feels full.

It is prayer spoken gently,

time that waits for me,

room to be still,

and the calm of knowing I am safe.

There is joy in the roof that covers,

in the hum of something working,

in the bread on the table,

in the water running clear,

in the mother whose love is steady,

in brothers who know how to make me laugh.

Joy is the voice that calls when I need it,

the friend who listens,

the people who walk with me,

the smile of someone I barely know

but who means well.

It is the lesson I didn’t expect,

the chance to try again,

the small wins no one sees,

the way the morning starts fresh,

as if nothing is too far gone.

Joy is not loud,

not always seen,

but it stays in the corners

of an early hour,

and meets me in the light

as I open my eyes

and say thank You.