16 Oct
Posted in: Poems
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How Seemingly Simple

Happiness is Harder
by Jane Hirshfield

To read a book of poetry
from back to front,
there is the cure for a certain kind of sadness.

A person has only to choose.
What doesn’t matter; just that

This coffee. That dress.
‘Here is the time I would like to arrive.’
‘Today, I will wash the windows.’

Happiness is harder.

Consider the master’s description
of awakened existence, how seemingly simple:
Hungry, I eat; sleepy, I sleep.
Is this choosing completely, or not at all?

In either case, everything seems to conspire against it.

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