Im taking an intensive course w Alexis Pauline Gumbs called Daughtering in the Face of Death. I've thought a lot and have written a lot about death, dying, grief, mourning, and the process and ritual and eroticism of it all!
Now I can find a new outlet to explore death and grief. Here is my poem that Alexis guided us through where we respond to the writing prompt of "your last word to me ..." I had dedicated my course participation to my mother and to Puerto Rico. These are who are who and what I am speaking of in this poem:
your last word to me was rememory
and i knew it.
you never read Toni Morrison, but
i am your beloved first born.
it was i who made you mother. it is
me here now finding anew and
being my own universal mother.
the disease took your memory but my
your last word to me was libertad
and i knew i would not live
long enough to see or witness
Puerto Rican independence and
the 'decolonization' people are
constantly misusing to describe their new idea.
there's no decolonization for the puerto rican.
que viva puerto rico libre!?
your last word to me was que revolu?! and
it was so very messy
totally d i
ing. The wind
and water battling.
The water from above chomping at
as the water from below chomps at
who will win this battle?
they both cede
leaving Puerto Rico.
leaving puerto rico delirious and un tremendo revolu
that my mama died on and where she
donated her body to its inhabitants: her
Speaking of my mami:
Your last word to me was cuentame.
as the Alzheimer's that took you
at the tender age of
i stopped sharing stories with you
the only video i have
with your voice says cuentame
lo que tu dices yo lo cuento.