Rest Mother Giovanni. Rest
*The premium essay that I had planned for today had to be put off in light of the way that this week started. First, thank you to all who have sent encouraging words and support after a powerfully racist incident. I won’t rehash that here because I am moving forward. Second, as I sat with my tea this morning an outline for some words to Nikki Giovanni came. A good portion of it will be free because I believe in access. I end with an original poem of mine.*
“I hope I die
warmed
by the life
that I tried to live.” Nikki Giovanni
This morning I wrote these words as I sat in the darkness of my morning routine. “Rest now Mother Giovanni. Your poetry was the first inspiration that I held on to in my quest to become a poet. Rest.” And I meant every single word. It feels selfish in some ways to reflect on the life of someone that has passed and center yourself. Centering how they made you feel. Thinking of the ways that you were transformed by the way they chose to live their life.
And. When I die, I hope people do center themselves. I’m outta here! I hope that what I left behind was something so generative that people are caught between weeping and laughing. That people remember that I was silly beyond belief and so tender that it seemed superhuman. Nikki Giovanni taught me so much. I remember the first book I bought of hers and how I sat with each poem. Yearning to be a poet and trying my hand at it. I talk about Lucille Clifton so much that it might get lost that Nikki Giovanni is the reason that I write. She taught me how to say what I needed to say and leave the rest behind. Yes, her presence seemed larger than life, but to me her simple presence helped me get on my feet and learn how to be a man. I’ll forever be grateful.