Like many, I’m trying to make sense of what is happening in our world. This poem came out of a series of experiences. I am tending the joy that belongs to all of us. That seems important to me right now. If finding joy seems out of reach for you right now, maybe we can agree to be on the lookout for it.

How do I live in joy?
I asked the Dreamer
one night.
Sleeping souls
have taken the halls
of power,
and they bring doom
to everything.
Joy is my oxygen,
and I fear that
I won’t much longer
be able to breathe.
No dreams came
to me that night,
and I woke with a
silence that filled
my heart.
It led me out
to the edge of the wood,
and I sat
trying to breathe.
A young stag
danced between the trees.

A wren
lifted song in the air.
A crow called:
caw, caw!
A school bus
groaned its stop for young travelers. 
A crow
called louder, caw, caw!
A lone red bird
chirped from a distant tree.
A squirrel 
fussed at his treetop nest.
And things grew still,
but not the crow.
The crow called:
now, now!

And a silence
arrived too loud not to hear.
The sun
scattered clarity through the trees.
The crow persisted:
now, now!
Nothing moved 
but barely a breeze.
Now, now!
she relayed
as she touched my face.
Call to Source
in those who sleep.
Call to Source,
In all who sleep.
Call to Source, 
Now, now!
Wake up to joy, 
Now, now!
Wake up to love, 
Now, now!
Wake up!
Wake up!
Joy.
Now.

~Robert Patrick