"Why do we measure happiness
by the pain of its absence
and hesitate to claim it
until it's lost?
What is it about joy
that makes us circumspect
when we find it so easy
to share grief?
We boost of it almost-
suffering.
Confide it to our friends,
compare
the worst times
the greatest injury-
revel in it.
Nothing is too hard,
too terrible to bare
when it comes to grief.
But happiness
makes us modest.
We keep it to ourselves.
Cosset it, conceal it
as if
fearful of wounding
by exposure.
Or of rousing envy.
Afraid of tempting providence.
Afraid of looking spoilt.
from The River that Carries Me
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