These are the good days, dear.
Not exactly happy,
Not everything that makes you happy is good.
You wish all the problems would just go away.
But then they’d never be resolved.
And in the end,
you wouldn’t really be happy.
You wish you didn’t have to talk about these things.
But “if there’s nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all”
Leaves you with nothing to say far too many times.
Having nobody to talk to
But these are the good days, dear,
Because you’re finding out who you can really talk to,
And slough through the thick muck of words needing to be said
That have been weighing down your chest
You’re finding out which hands will reach out and take yours
When nothing but actions can speak louder and clearer
than those long-needed words.
You have work to do.
Dreams to try for.
And the sound of the rain washing against your roof at night
As you thank God for your blessings and the good hardships
Reminds you that he has washed you clean,
So the grime of these good days,
And the not-so-good days before,
can’t cling to you.
Happiness is too tame a word for that.
~ Stacia Joy