"Sorrow Is Not My Name", by Ross Gay
Updated: Jun 7, 2021
I have been attending pranayama & meditation sessions with Chase Bossart, who I highly admire, during all the length of the pandemic. One of the things that I like is that, even it being through the internet and not in person, we get to ask questions, interact with others, and learn not only from the teacher, but from the other participants as well. In one of the sessions, something that a person said about vultures, and how important they are for the world, made me completely change the idea I had of those incredible birds.
Then my friend Toni Goodman shared this beautiful poem, new to me, in her Poetry Circle. See what you think.
Sorrow Is Not My Name
—after Gwendolyn Brooks
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
from Bringing the Shovel Down, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2011
In my group classes, I often read a poem as inspiration. check the online schedule clicking here
Learn more about Private Yoga Therapy clicking here