The Happy Poem

A Lyric Free-Verse Poem by Naomi Ward

I sat down intending to write a happy poem.

Pen in hand,

I waited for the words.

I reached for sunlight,

but my hands remembered only darkness.

I searched for laughter

and heard the distant echo of crying.

Where I hoped to find joy,

there were only places

where hope had been buried.

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Happiness is a language

I have never spoken well

and have long since forgotten.

Sorrow needed no translation.

I am fluent in sorrow.

It is my mother tongue.

I don’t remember happy.

But I wanted to write something happy,

if only to believe

there was still some part of me

that sorrow did not own.

But the page remains empty.

© 2026 Naomi Ward