Sorrow Is Not My Name

“Sorrow Is Not My Name” is a 23-line, heavily enjambed free verse poem by Ross Gay. Published as part of his collection Bringing the Shovel Down in 2011, the poem responds to American poet Gwendolyn Brooks’s poem “To the Young Who Want to Die.” Both poems examine themes of death and mortality, ultimately advocating for life and hope, albeit in different ways; Gay’s poem echoes Brooks’s final line, “Remember, green’s your color. You are spring,” (Brooks, Gwendolyn. “To the Young Who Want to Die.” Get Lit Anthology) with a clear counter: “I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring” (Line 23).

Gay’s poetry often explores the theme of joy, and “Sorrow Is Not My Name” fits neatly into his thematic canon. Examining the myriad “naturally occurring sweet things” (Line 13) on the planet while also acknowledging the presence of death, Gay presents a complicated portrait of joy, ultimately arguing that only by acknowledging, understanding, and accepting the possibility (and inevitability) of death can the speaker, and thus the reader, begin to appreciate the overwhelming beauty available in the world.

Poet Biography

Ross Gay was born in Youngstown, Ohio in 1974 to a Black father and a white mother. As an undergraduate, he studied at Lafayette College in Pennsylvania, going on to earn an MFA degree in poetry at Sarah Lawrence College, and a doctorate in American Literature at Temple University. His poetry collections and essays have been critically lauded: His collection Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude was a National Book Award finalist in 2015 and he has received fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, among others. In addition to writing and teaching, Gay co-founded an online sports magazine and serves as an editor at two chapbook presses: Q Avenue and Ledge Mule Press.

Other works by this author include A Small Needful Fact and Wedding Poem.

Gay’s poetry and writing examines the role of joy in various forms, something Gay explicitly claims as the impetus behind his work. His biography on his website reads:

Ross Gay is interested in joy.

Ross Gay wants to understand joy.

Ross Gay is curious about joy.

Ross Gay studies joy.

Something like that.

Gay’s 2020 collection of 100 essays, the New York Times best seller The Book of Delights, encompasses these ideas. Each of the book’s essays is a daily reflection on happy things. In an interview with the Rumpus in 2019, he declared: “The beautiful mundane is everywhere. It feels…the more I was on the lookout, the more I was like “God, wow—beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty” (Cohen, Hannah. “The Beautiful Mundane Is Everywhere: Talking with Ross Gay.”).

Most recently, in 2020, Gay published Be Holding, a book length poem about the basketball player Julius Erving, which won the PEN/Jean Stein award. Gay currently teaches at Indiana University and Drew University’s Low-Residency Master of Fine Arts Program. He is an avid gardener, and is a member of Bloomington’s Community Orchard, a non-profit, free-fruit-for-all food justice and joy project.

Poem Text

Gay, Ross. “Sorrow Is Not My Name.” 2011. Poetry Foundation.

Summary

“Sorrow Is Not My Name” begins with the speaker describing death metaphorically as the “brink” (Line 1) and “deep sleep” (Line 2), using euphemisms that make death sound like an edge or rest. He encourages the reader to not dwell too long on the idea of death—if we do, we would be oblivious to what is around us. For example, that morning, the speaker saw a vulture with a “red, grizzled head” (Line 5) and a “sickle” beak (Like 7) that he admires. The vulture flew off in the wind, “Just like that” (Line 11)—a speedy moment the speaker could have missed by being overly focused on the “brink” to come.

The speaker makes it clear that the vulture is only one of many possible magical things to note: In the 11th line, he states: “And to boot, / there are, on this planet alone, something like two / million naturally occurring sweet things” (Lines 11-13). The tone becomes increasingly joyous as the speaker catalogues some of these things, listing out the “generous” (Line 14) names of items that are so lovely they have a physical impact on him, “kick[ing] the steel from [his] knees” (Lines 14-15). He mentions “agave, persimmon, / stick ball, the purple okra I bought for two bucks / at the market” (Lines 15-17), and implores the reader to meditate on this bounty.

The speaker returns once more to the concept of death, metaphorically, mentioning “the long night, / the skeleton in the mirror” (Lines 17-18), but he soon dismisses this kind of thinking with a vocal shrug: “yeah, yeah” (Line 19). He turns to an image of family, love, and community, describing his niece “running through a field / calling my name” (Lines 20-21). He offers an image of a neighbor singing and a basketball court at the end of his block—with the implication of future fun and games that is echoed in the hopeful final line: “I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring” (Line 23).