(Click here for text of Janzen's poem.)

In her poem “Wild Grapes,” Jean Janzen juxtaposes images of abundant, joyful life and painful death through her portrayal of her grandfather’s last days on earth. She intertwines words such as “distant,” “end,” “dry,” and “last” with others such as “sweet,” “light,” “golden,” “dreamed,” and “open.” The poem is full of stark contrasts, revealing life as bittersweet, but extremely precious.

In the first line, “Grandfather” is immediately identified with death. He is “dying in November” (line 1), the month when fall is giving way to bleak winter. This grim image of fading life, both of people and nature, is the harsh reality that Janzen forces readers to confront from the very beginning of the poem.   

However, in the second line, we are refreshed with life as Grandfather remembers the sweet taste of wild grapes from long ago. Peter, his oldest son, is sent on horseback, an image of energy and vitality, to discover the reality of this cherished memory near a “distant creek” (line 3). The simple description of the grapes as “sweet under the leaves” (line 4) makes use of a subtle assonance and gives the reader the essence of the old man’s craving. 

After Peter leaves, the poem focuses on the room where Grandfather lays dying. Instead of the mournful, ugly reality of life slipping away, however, the image is beautiful. Light streams into this room of death, “golden as broth” (line 7), and appears to fill the cups next to Grandfather’s bed. Through this startling simile, Janzen introduces the idea that beauty can be like nourishing food, feeding the mind even when the body is nearing the end. This light that enters his room, even in November, even when life is ending, seems almost divine, transcending reality. The dust in the air, usually a negative image of age, is made to shimmer. We are now able to see this bleak room of death as something golden and magical.   

In the next stanza, Janzen takes us from Grandfather’s room and introduces two memories of other people who have had last requests for certain foods:
 

The words “crushed” and “flesh” (line 10) leave the mouth of the reader tingling with a nectarine’s burst of flavor, the craving of the first person mentioned. The more subtle, discreet words “bits” and “cake” describe the acute memories experienced by the second person, his or her eyes “brimming”(line 12) with tears. 

In the third stanza, the reader is given an even wider perspective. The poem is now universal, not limited to one family or group of friends. We must all wonder what we would choose as the last taste in our mouths. Janzen uses the words “drink in remembrance” (line 13), calling to mind Jesus’s words at his last supper, “Do this in remembrance of me.” This comparison with communion draws out interesting aspects of the poem. The grapes, easily connected with wine, now have a sacramental quality. The food eaten at the end of life is in memory of “each morning” (line 14) personified here as giving itself to us with “open arms” (line 15). This image portrays life as an amazing gift; each morning it is willing to offer itself to us, to embrace us with its beauty.   

Janzen then poses the difficult question of what food would let us take part one last time in experienced moments of sunrise and the quiet glory of morning. She uses the word “whispered” (line 16), making these moments both intimate and reverent. 

The last stanza brings us back to Grandfather, describing his last days on earth not as peaceful, but “pain-filled” (line 18), sharply contrasting the moments described in the previous stanza. However, Grandfather does not want to leave this world, despite the pain. He dreams of cures for the disease that is stealing his life. Janzen carefully points out that her grandfather is not afraid of death, but rather that he knows in death he will be with God, whom he loves. Yet, this often painful, truly beautiful world also holds God's love, making him reluctant to leave. It is the beauty described earlier that holds him to earth: light that makes dust glimmer and the unconditional gift of morning. This beauty and love is “indescribable” (line 22), and Janzen does not attempt to put large, complicated words to the overpowering feeling. Instead, using synaesthesia, this beautiful world of sight, taste, touch, sound, and smell is condensed into wild grapes, eaten on the deathbed, in remembrance of life.