We Have to Bask in the Joyful Moments

by Ernie McCray

As I surveyed a picture
taken at
my sister-in-law, Becky’s, 80th birthday party,
I couldn’t help but notice
how joyful she looked
all dressed in pink
and I began to think
that the way to survive the mess
our country is in
is by simply
enjoying to the fullest
the joyful moments we find ourselves in,
no matter how fleeting they might be
because these little breaks
will certainly be short-lived
in our reality
as a country,
as on the day
before this social gathering
I was down as a man could be,
overrun with misery
like a man drowning at sea
but on this eve
I luxuriated
in the sounds
of beautiful corridos
born in Mexico,
the homeland
of Becky’s ancestors
and I dined on chicken mole and pozole
and drank a margarita
and on the next day
I was back to a woe-is-me kind of mood
thinking about all that we will have to do
to go against the discontent
blowing in the winds
in our nation
and wondering when
my next bit of joy
would come.

But I know moments of jubilation

will come every now and then

because I can’t see myself

giving up on the simple things

in my life that turn me on:

the arts, a lovely song, a great back-and-forth ball game,

a merry holiday, a good book, an idea that inspires me to write,

some prose or poetry,

a gentle hug from friends and family

and so much more…

So, I’ve decided I will try to use the happy energy my interests give me

as the power source to energize me

to stay the course

of my lifetime

of trying to make the world

the way I would like it to be,

especially since, in the background of the portrait

Becky is in,

a man seems to be looking directly at me:

Emiliano Zapata,

a hero of mine

who fought aggressively

in the early 20th Century

to give hard-working Mexicans

back the land the elite ruling class

had taken from them.

His penetrating eyes

remind me

that poverty is a reason many Mexicans today try to immigrate

to the United States,

willing to meet our demands

for low-skilled labor,

yet we want to build walls

for these neighbors of ours,

and that being the reality

I feel I have to, in any way I can,

ensure that immigrants,

no matter who they might be,

are somehow

treated by the system humanely,

knowing that

an outrageously heartless and soulless man

deviously plans

to just bring harm to them, basically.

And I hope there are others

who also feel a need to address such a situation –

in between, of course,

taking time out to breathe

and to enjoy life as best they can.

What other choice

do we have

my fellow Americans?