Joy and Sorrow

 

In our poem-a-day marathon for April, I missed yesterday.  40 lashes with a wet noodle for me and two poems today for you.

 

The first comes from Adult Services librarian Deb Switzer.  Deb is creative enough to spout original poetry at the Reference desk while selecting materials and running statistic reports.  Don’t be alarmed at this poem.  Deb was having a bit of a stressful day, but she really is just fine. Her good sense of humor seems to bring her through just about everything.

Half Asleep

half asleep

 

half awake

 

in the water

 

drowning.

 

Today’s second poem comes from Lebanese-American poet Kahlil Gibran, most famous for his book The Prophet.  HIs cousin, the American born artist and inventor of the same name, died just a few days ago in Brooklyn, NY. This poem, from The Prophet, was published in 1923, just out of the reach of copyright.

 Joy and Sorrow

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 hold 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.

 

Reader, do you agree with Gibran?