"Are you happy?" he asks. And I don't know what to say. I am an anxious wreck of emotion,
and I am tranquil within it all:
The eye of the storm
watching the pain and fear and joy and
excitement and panic and worry and sorrow and
hope and loss and resentment and anger and
happiness
swirl around me -
mine,
belonging to me
but outside -
like a blizzard,
and my body
is a brick house
with a lit fireplace.
I am happy in my own way.
This is happiness, too.