PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Today I’m grateful for all the things I cannot see…

Like the love of my family and friends in my mind I hear

even when I cannot see them…

reminding me they’re here.

Wherever I go it’s easy to celebrate all the beauty in front of me…

the sunsets, the trees, the flowers, the ocean…

all those things my eyes can see.

But every now and then this impulse surfaces in me…

that makes me want to stop and celebrate

all the things I cannot see.

I cannot see the wind…I can only feel her breeze

I cannot see the crickets who serenade me in the morning

or the birds singing from the darkness of their trees.

I cannot see the aroma of fresh baked cookies, cake or bread.

I cannot see how far in life one act of kindness or giving will spread.

I cannot see the air I breathe…but I know it’s there.

I cannot see, unless you show me, just how much you care.

I cannot see the music when I hear my favorite song.

I cannot see the actual bonds that make a marriage strong. 

I cannot see your sadness without first seeing your tears…

I cannot see your words of love as they travel to my ears.

Yes, with my eyes open I am constantly amazed

at all the beauty I observe in front of me…

but every now and then I like to close my eyes

and think about

all those things I cannot see.

The other day a memory I hadn’t thought about in years came to me

from wherever my memories are stored…

as I helped push a man in a wheelchair in through the hospital doors.

Back when I was in college (and I had a lot more hair)

I heard about a boy with cerebral palsy confined to a wheelchair.

Bobby was homeschooled but he and his parents thought it would be cool

instead of being taught at home…if he attended his local school.

Everything was arranged…all that needed to be found

was someone to take him to and from school…and when there…to wheel him around.

I volunteered thinking it would be a good experience for me…

besides…wheeling around a young boy in a wheelchair…how hard could that be?

And it wasn’t hard at all…it was a piece of cake…

as long as I remembered once I sat Bobby in his chair

since the school sidewalk sloped…to set his parking brake.

A couple of weeks in…we arrived at school…it was like any other day

filled with anticipation, excitement and hope…

until I heard Bobby scream Jiiiiiiiiim! and looked up

to see him rolling backward down the slope.

Luckily the slope was not to steep and pushed by the forgiving hands of Fate

I easily caught up to Bobby…before it was too late. 

Once I caught him…I apologized profusely…but he was laughing…then

he looked me in the eyes and asked, “Jim, can we please do that again?”

And that became our morning routine…for me and Bobby, my little friend…

I’d set him in his wheelchair take off the parking break…let him roll,

then run beside him and catch him in the end.

I’ll never forget the happiness on his face…the joy…the smile the laughter

as he rolled backward down that slope…while I came running after.

When I look back now I’m glad the way it happened…glad for my mistake

for Bobby might never have felt the freedom nor I his joy

If had remembered to set his parking brake.

He pauses two times every day around the first and the last light…

Once after his eyes open in the morning…and once before they close at night.

At night…a peaceful moment…where in his bed he lay…

to relive some of the memories he collected throughout the day.

And in the morning when he wakes up…

as his eyes becomes accustomed to the light

he pauses a moment to wonder 

what memories he will take to bed that night

As you prepare yourself for life each day…

may you look into the mirror and concede

the joy you see upon your face…

is the only make-up you will ever need.

The moment you realize how easy joy is to carry…

How she’s as light as a touch, a smile…a song…

You also realize wherever you choose to go…

Joy can easily tag along.

Life is short and oftentimes shaped by circumstances out of our control…

Which means savoring the joy and sweetness of every moment

should be our constant goal.

And though I am still heartbroken at where I think our country…our world is headed

at the things some people are so callously attempting to destroy…

when it comes to my life and the people I love…I’m determined to find joy.

It’s in my morning walk…when I stop to greet the stars.

When I say hello to the moon, to Orion…to Jupiter and Mars.

It’s listening to the owls as I watch the clouds drift across the sky

It’s watching the rabbits stop and nod…a subtle acknowledgment as I walk by.

It’s taking a second walk with Deborah…in the waxing light of day.

Saying hello and stopping to talk to people we meet along the way.

It’s holding hands, a smile, a hug, a gentle kiss…a touch.

It’s so many of the little things I’ve come to love so much.

It’s any moment with my family…any time with them I spend.

It’s receiving popcorn from our son…or warm cookies from a friend.

It’s sitting down with a good book…or a slow walk along the shore…

It’s going to sleep and waking up next to someone I adore.

I am not naive…

I know despite my prayers…hatred, war and evil in this world remain….

and I know finding joy may not heal my broken heart…

But…

it does help to ease the pain.

Like every child I did not choose my name…

I was at my parent’s whim….

They chose ton name me James (from the Bible)

although I’ve always preferred Jim.

For my middle name they chose Otto…

after my Grandpa who died when I was a little boy.

Add Jim and Otto to my last name Yerman

and my initials spell out JOY.

When I was young some friends would call me Joy

and around me mixed feelings would swirl….

At first I was not happy…I thought it made me sound too much like a girl. 

Until I learned to smile when I heard them call me Joy

to see it as a compliment just the same…

To find the joy within that moment that is inherent in my name.

And from that lesson taught to me on a playground…

all those years ago…

I’ve learned to look for joy wherever I may go.

Which makes me wonder…

Did my initials guide me on this joyous path

from the time I was a boy

or without them would I have been the person

who so easily discovers joy?

Of course I’ll never know the answer…

If it was me…or the initials of my name…

But on days like today…when I stop to think about it…

I thank Grandpa Otto…just the same.