Photo taken by the author. Credit: Jane Harris

Joy

You are ‘no masterpiece’ they say, but I see love perfected every time I look at you,

in a mass of pink and green forever living vines and rose petals open wide as the flowers of heaven, hopeful as a bride’s bouquet.

Like the first time I ever stepped inside my bridegroom’s house, when he was dating me, and saw your spirit dancing on the wall,

outliving every betrayal, every grief, and even death itself,

Joy alone remains.

Note: June 22nd will mark the eighth anniversary since I was attacked in my own home.