Just when it has seemed I couldn’t bear
one more friend
waking with a tumor, one more maniac
with a perfect reason, often a sweetness
has come
and changed nothing in the world
except the way I stumbled through it,
for a while lost
in the ignorance of loving
someone or something, the world shrunk
to mouth-size,
hand-size, and never seeming small.
I acknowledge there is no sweetness
that doesn’t leave a stain,
no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet.
Tonight a friend called to say his lover
was killed in a car
he was driving. His voice was low
and guttural, he repeated what he needed
to repeat, and I repeated
the one or two words we have for such grief
until we were speaking only in tones.
Often a sweetness comes
as if on loan, stays just long enough
to make sense of what it means to be alive,
then returns to its dark
source. As for me, I don’t care
where it’s been, or what bitter road
it’s traveled
to come so far, to taste so good.
“Sweetness” by Stephen Dunn from New and Selected Poems. © Norton, 1994.
*originally shared on December 4, 2015
Words for the Year 
Excellent!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi, Christina,
Thank You for this.
I’ve always thought Stephen Dunn’ poetry was special in a sweet way. (I’m sure I haven’t read all of his works, though.)
But there’s one – I think called “The kiss” – about his wife – that just knocked my socks off!
Such tenderness.
Best,
Jean McKay
❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, a favorite. Thank you
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ooh I don’t think I know that one, Jean, thank you! I haven’t read much Dunn, but all that I’ve read I really love. I’ll definitely look up The Kiss (that name always makes me think of the Gustav Klimt painting)
Happy May! xo
LikeLike
Oomph. I remember when you first posted this one. xo
LikeLike
Oh thank you, thank you. So many losses, so many friends lost, and the sweetness that comes afterwards with being here, even after tears, a grief that grounds and centers yet expands.
LikeLiked by 1 person