Thief of Joy – a poem by Alfred Fournier

Thief of Joy

I’m not sure where I lost my fear of joy.
I must have dropped it
getting out of the car at the airport
five years ago maybe,
or forgot it with my coffee mug
on the counter of the information desk
at the Fort Wayne Science Museum.

I used to be a thief of joy,
sneaking glimpses
when God’s back was turned—
brief but unforgettable—
like sunrays slicing through clouds.
As a child I was warned
never to look into the face of God
by religious people afraid to peer
into the pond of their own darkness.

But now
when those waters lay still in me,
I listen for the curve-billed thrasher
swooping into my yard for a bite of suet, 
and if the sun slants just right,
catch my reflection in the light of his eye
and the flood of a moment’s wonder
drowns me in a no-longer-secret ecstasy,
and the insight
that I might as well enjoy it.

Alfred Fournier is a writer and community volunteer in Phoenix, Arizona. His first poetry collection, A Summons on the Wind (2023, Kelsay Books), was nominated for the Eric Hoffer Book Award. His poems have appeared in Amethyst Review, Orchards Poetry Journal, Gyroscope Review, The Sunlight Press and elsewhere. Twitter (X): @AlfredFournier4, alfredfournier.com.