Tiers Of Joy Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Never-ending brutal sorrow pounding inner quiet, withdrawing
sanity, replacing it with tears.

Tearing apart a piece of joy held carefully in prayerful hands, tended gently, afraid of losing it, reaching and never attaining another particle to add to it.

Never growing, still the same size as when a child, the joy in
me is never-changing.

A life of perfect solemnity, in wake-like reveries, funeral
sorrow attaining more space interiorly than there is room for.

Despondent mitigation, contrary to reason, lies hunched over
in unachievable remorse.

Defiably ensconced in doorways, admitting daily increments of stationary pity tucked comfortably beneath tiers of joy.