American Life in Poetry: ‘Nothing But Good’ by Sarah White

We’re taught to never speak ill of the dead. Well, then, what do we do? Perhaps we forgive. Here’s a lovely poem by Sarah White, who lives in New York. It’s from her book from Deerbrook Editions, “Wars Don’t Happen Anymore.”

Nothing But Good…

I will not speak ill of Jack Flick.

I will rarely look

at the scar he made on my cheek

one summer at the lake.

I won’t speak ill of Jack whose freckles

and gangly legs are gone.

So is the drained face I saw when he saw

what he’d done with a sharp rock

nonchalantly skipped.

I will speak well, for it was somewhat

sweet to lie on the dock while Jack

and his friends bent down

and wiped my face with a sandy towel.

I will speak well of them,

for most are gone

and the wound proved small.

I will speak well, for the rock

missed my eye. I can hardly find

the scar. Jack went into the air

corps, fought in one of the wars,

retired, and lived less than a year

before his tender heart gave out.

I will speak well of Jack.