waiting is a ruckus
when you realize
you’re inches away
from never setting foot
on that porch
again

black men love
their children as
they navigate
through nightmares
resolving to be
great fathers

my daddy
he chose us
smart, dapper,
coolest dude i’ve
ever known
yes

he wanted better
dishing out orders
like platters for
red velvet cake
he spared no
expense

i
remember
him poured into
his traveling suit
wingtips accelerating
road trip to Chicago
to break bread with
cousins unknown

so glad
songs crack my
mask, memories
flood in like
it was yesterday
grateful
am i

for my daddy

grief is a gift. there are hours, days, weeks, months when you mistakenly imagine you’ve moved on. that your sadness is dissolved. your loss resolved. your grief complete. and then from nowhere you’ll read a seemingly innocent post from a friend on facebook and it transports you right back in time to another space where your loss is more real, more tangible, than it was only a moment before. the days those moments don’t feel like sucker punches to the throat are the best days.