Sorrow Is Not My Name
by Ross Gay
—after Gwendolyn Brooks
(published in his 2011 book, Bringing the Shovel Down, published by the University of Pittsburgh Press)
No matter the pull toward brink. No
matter the florid, deep sleep awaits.
There is a time for everything. Look,
just this morning a vulture
nodded his red, grizzled head at me,
and I looked at him, admiring
the sickle of his beak.
Then the wind kicked up, and,
after arranging that good suit of feathers
he up and took off.
Just like that. And to boot,
there are, on this planet alone, something like two
million naturally occurring sweet things,
some with names so generous as to kick
the steel from my knees: agave, persimmon,
stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks
at the market. Think of that. The long night,
the skeleton in the mirror, the man behind me
on the bus taking notes, yeah, yeah.
But look; my niece is running through a field
calling my name. My neighbor sings like an angel
and at the end of my block is a basketball court.
I remember. My color's green. I'm spring.
—for Walter Aikens
Ross Gay is known for his poems of positivity, and I think what is really remarkable about his poems--and his just reputation--is that his poems do not avoid the negatives that also exist in our world. This poem is a great example of his talent.
Death is there at the beginning of this piece: "the florid, deep sleep awaits." But the speaker wants us to remember that there is beauty and joy inj the here and now.
Brilliantly, he moves from death to life with a vulture--a symbol of death, but in this poem, also a thing that sparks wonder. Then the speaker assures us, in a voice that is both authoritative and conversational, that "something like two/million naturally occurring sweet things" also exist. These include persimmons and stick ball; later, his niece, and a neighbor with a lovely singing voice are mentioned.
In the midst of his listing things to notice now, during our lives, the speaker acknowledges that death is inevitable (and he does so with 3 metaphors). But, look--and the speaker reminds us of the people he sees/hears.
And what does this listing of beautiful things remind him of? That he is alive, spring, green.
Even for those of us who are autumn or winter, we are still here, surrounded by everyday wonders. This poem is such a boost of positivity, I am happy to prescribe it to you--read this at least once a week or as needed!
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