ON GRIEF AND HEALING TRANSCRIPT

On grief and healing for Robert Gibson 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 opened my grandfather's urn on the dining 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 stumbled across the yard, hope she's too far to see there's only two of us now
I'm stuck, in a 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 beside a graveyard, reading poems of grief and healing
I finished Erin Hayes’ Blues procession
he wrote the piece for his uncle Bubba born in 1953 same year as my father
who asked me to tell his story as the cancer nodded the veinacross his temple
I prayed with Mama real good before the ambulance escorts him to Richmond Community Hospital
i catched the pride in his voice when he say this place used to be run by blacks
he said when I die burned 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 and a circle around the fire
the ones who know death laugh the hardest,
cheeks drawn back his 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, Gibson 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, Columbia summers
rumbling Thunder of 4th of July
bottling rockets and sparkling eyes
remember the time, apple tree in the front dump
take inside, I'm a sip of cold one
I'm going to lean on a ride
I'm going to leave when I god damn feel like it
Still fighting, my body, the bottle,
my body, The glass, filled with spirit 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 alright
put your faith in God, I see Your might
put your suits in the cleaners son,
increase your stride, invest in yourself
and you're gonna see your light,
we renamed you rob so believe your height man
when you’re writing, and feel a tap on the shoulder
that's me, that's me