- As big as the night sky is
its greed does not outweigh the first mouthful of dawn.
I will tell you what joy is.
It is the movement of 5,000 men
dancing to the voice of 10,000 women,
their feet wrestling with their knees
to stay beneath them.
A strong and common song pouncing upon their chests.
Joy, never lingers long
in the apex of another person's laugh.
But I found it reflects perfectly
from the level of my undecorated hips.
Long it went unnoticed.
A chimney sweep in a London streak
crying for six pence and parents.
And I felt like I would suffocate under all that darkness.
Gargoyle, a disappointment, y'all.
Watchmen over my bed.
I prayed the beast would just, you know, consume me
instead of prowling from one relationship to the next.
I feared the croak of silence
and felt myself unraveling by the rhyme.
But I promise my loneliness.
I promise my loneliness
that one day I would write myself a glass essay
and then I would love like it can't break.
I prayed, "Lord, give me good legs in an open road.
Lord, give me a juggernaut heart
and a Japanese car in benevolent change."
And yesterday, yesterday under the honesty
of 60 watt light bulbs
and eye-worn passages.
There, there was my story.
Happy ending super imposed.
Looking final and unchallenged.
So joy is in the song, is in the beauty of the husband.
All the books you hold clenched in your white teeth.
I dare you to tell me
that I am not mending,
'cause joy is back bending
in what you think is submission,
but it is really mercy.
It is the watershed that comes
from a good deed, rippling into great character.
My mouth found my face again,
Found it could still spread, y'all.
And not as easy as butter,
not as fast as rumors
but it could still light up a room or two.
Sometimes joy means
you have to be an archeologist
and an astronomer rolled into one.
Sometimes you gotta dig deeper.
Sometimes you gotta see farther.
But this smile right here
is a genesis older than any doubt cubby hold
of the Big Bang center.
So though, I have been shaking these years
in my boots and my beliefs,
I am proud of my ankles,
'cause they'd be no turn coats.
Proud of my knees, the creaking martyrs to dance hall.
Sometimes they had to break to keep me upright.
Proud of my thighs,
who unlike the red sea
never parted for a man posing as a God.
So even though he left me,
he left and it hurt.
What is not sunny about today?
Even the rain clouds can bless me.
So what if he won't appreciate me?
The homeless man will hug me
and the street corner will open up to me
and it will thank me
for humming it Aretha and listening to its creases.
Joy, is not being in love and not being bitter.
It is friendship.
It is agreement.
Joy is a Polaroid army
crawling its way into life.
It is a childhood gift wrapped
and return to the Syrian orphan.
It is being beautiful
and not having have a man tell you so.
It is finding yourself warm enough
for these lonely winter nights, it is!
It is finding yourself
and finding yourself whole after so long.
So, to shaved heads and unsaddled burdens
to this lion's mane of insecurities.
To my favorite broken heart
and to every lover I've ever had
the pleasure of loving.
I know, I know it might sound forceful to you
but I am laughing
like I have conquered something
because I have, thank y'all.
(audience cheers)