Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on February 10, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.
I sat in windows
doorways, closets
prostrate upon the
bed, or walking for
hours, naming the flow
ers I could. When misery
came and went in 1995, mira
culously love took his place. Against
my better judgment, I, occasionally, in
vited misery back in. He’d look at me brilliantly like
one staring at the sun and recline on his golden door.
He’d leave inevitably for another, another more
but things were evident. I liked how he’d watch
me pile wood on the floor.
Copyright © 2023 by Jos Charles. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 11, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.