On grief and healing, for Robert Gibsun senior.
I deleted the video of my dad out my phone today I looked at the time Forgot when I looked away I deleted the video of my dad out my phone today My thumb smothered the button His face faded away
I don’t like goodbyes anymore I force myself to say “see you soon” Or later One of us will be on the other side of a casket I typed a poem about death and yo Where my dad went
I open my grandfather’s urn On the diding room table In September I opened my father’s, too My mother say life is crazy We lost both our fathers in the same year
We step out the house And a voice says “You’re missing him” I stumble across the yard Hope she’s too far to see there’s only two of us now
I’m stuck in the golden ray of the evening sun Dad would want me to move I can hear him now coaching from the sky “You either get busy living or get busy dying”
Tonight I am besides a graveyard Reading poems of grief and healing I finished Terrance Hayes Blues Procession He wrote the piece for his uncle bubba Born in 1953
Same years my father Who asked me to tell his story As the cancer knotted the vein across his temple I prayed with mama real good Before the ambulance escorts him to Richmond community hospital I catch the pride in his voice when he say “This place used to be run by blacks” He said “When I die burn my ass”
We bring him home in a box under a wreath of flowers in the living room The coffee table crowded with sympathy cards I see us on separate couches Watching the vhs of his brother Sobbing over his father’s body I keep my eye on the tv but wonder what he’s thinking And he says “Isn’t that something? We crying over his shell But his spirit already gone. I’m with the homies In a circle Around the fire.”
The ones who know death Laugh the hardest Cheeks drawn back And curtains revealing teeth Maybe courage is having the strength to find the fears That are taking up too much space And press delete
I deleted a video of my dad out my phone today
He lives through me The sky reveals his face “Little Robert don’t fear Mama here, papa here Margaret, Thomas, Richard, too Gibsun clan we hand to you We sit with Biggie, Angelou Teach the kiddies, hand them truth And the juice of honeysuckles South of the border Colombia summers Rumbling thunder Fourth of July Bottling rockets and sparkling eyes Remember the time, apple tree in the front, Dump tank inside I’mma sip a cold one I’mma lean on the ride I’mma leave when I goddamn feel like it. Still fighting
My body’s a bottle, my body’s a glass Filled with spirits and empty again Maybe the cancer, maybe the meds Maybe the doctors, maybe I’m dead But you keep me alive So it’s gonna be all right Put your faith in god I see your mic Put your suit in the cleaners, son Increase your stride Invest in yourself And you’re gonna see your life We named you Rob So believe your height, man When you writin’ And you feel a tap on the shoulder That’s me That’s me.”
