Losing anyone in your life affects EVERYTHING in your life.
Your perspectives shift. You question your own mortality.
Losing someone close to you makes you feel like a raw nerve in a world of razor-wire. Everything hurts.
Losing my dad just before becoming a father, seemed extra-ordinarily cruel and ironic. But, contemplating that cruel irony eventually led me through the “Why me” of it— to the “Why NOT you” of it! This marked the beginning of a more philosophical, questioning tone in much of my writing; which was previously marked more by highly critical and declarative rhetoric.
As a result of the transformation that profound loss engendered in me, I came to see that the most effective poems are those which help us more profoundly contemplate our place in the world and what we make of it. How we might become better-acting agents in whatever time we have available which, no matter how long that is—loss shows us is not enough?
This poem, by Andalusian poet Adi Al-Riga, speaks so viscerally of grieving. Speaks to how the small and mundane can trigger our grieving— and how that grieving can awaken in us something difficult to name. Poetry helps us name it. Helps us give it language—to call it something. Poetry helps us get a fix on it, shape it— and, perhaps, dialog with it. I am reminded of Billie Holiday— a woman with a voice born of such grief, singing “Good Morning Heartache.” At the end of the song, she asks Heartache to sit down. In this, as in Adi Al-Riga’s poem, I find a solace and a strength in that embracing of vulnerability.
This, to me, is another way in which poetry helps.
Also, poetry asks us to sit and feel, in a world that tells us to flee and forget!
Poetry asks us to slow down and reflect, when modernity demands we speed up and never look back at the emotional road-kill we might have become. It allows us to concentrate on our shared humanity at a time in which we are enjoined to externalize and socially aggress against one another. It demands we wrestle through the complexity of emotional paradox when so much tells us the world is a black-and-white bumper sticker.
Poetry, to me, respects our complete humanity when so much of the public discourse seeks to reduce us to tools of service. It doesn’t treat us as mere means to an end— but may help us determine what we want OUR end to MEAN.
Poetry lets us know that, not only are we not alone in our grief, but we are understood and respected for it! I mean, unless we are sociopathic, if we live long enough and love fully enough, grief is inevitable. So, even though every day we arise with tears, poetry can lead us to both our passion and our compassion— it can help us better decide how to walk through this world as both a metaphor of, and a monument to, the best of what those who have left… have left us.
About Regie Gibson
Regie Gibson is a literary performer, songwriter, author, workshop facilitator, and educator. Regie and his work appears in the New Line Cinema film love jones, based largely on events in his life. He is a former National Poetry Slam Individual Champion, and was selected as one of Chicago Tribune’s Artist of the Year for Excellence for his poetry. He has co-judged the Chicago Sun-Times Poetry Competition, has been regularly featured on NPR and has appeared on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam. He is the author of Storms Beneath the Skin.
Resources:
Regie Gibson website
Read other acclaimed poets reflections on grief