True Confessions of a Happy Poet

True Confessions of a Happy Poet.

I have great friends,
Smart, fierce
Loyal, quirky and odd,
Kind, fun people
Trustworthy
Mostly clean,
If not brave and reverent

I know
This doesn't leave me open
To inspirational angst and pain
Preferred diet
Of poets

I even love my siblings
So different in lives and tastes,
We would never have met
Except for our rearing
Under the same roof

Shockingly, I like to spend time
With my strong willed,
Generous, mother
And enjoy the company
Of my ex husband
As long as we don't share living space.

I know,
These are poor credentials for an artist
who should write of great conflict
And dire trauma.

But sometimes,
Not often enough,
Life is good
And language
In all of its glory, should not be meant
Only for the cadences of despair

How else
Do we encourage the good
If we can not sing praise
To the people we love
And the joy
They bring us.