First Flight
(for Rickey Williams)
written July 27, 2006
on monday he took first flight
leapt to his death
face cutting air
arms surrendering like the tears
i'd wiped goodbye
many times before
he fell as if meant to fly
no confidence in wings
and some of us knew he was an angel
but he didn't believe us
some devil echo of self-doubt
made him believe we were tricksters
salesmen of empty promises
some muthafucker in his head
promised peace in the valley of the Bay
(exhale)
so he jumped
into baptismal waters
to be born again
took flight into the only option
he felt would bring him peace
but everyone knows
no one survives that fall
into the feeling that pain ends
when life does
cuz life is so much bigger than any pain
i sometimes stretch my lens
beyond peripheral vision
to see all the hope around me
all the arms willing to hold me up
when I feel like falling
feel like disremembering
I'm a reason somebody loves living
(when in hell, ex-hell)
because depression is another
of our dirty secrets
doesn't happen to black boys
our suicides are not as often
sharp dramatic leaps
self-induced strange fruit noose
our suicidal tendencies be subtle
are unprotected sex, gangsta gattin,
drug escapisms, cuz "we don't give a fuck"
we do not as often leap
except when in that tight-fit
where death seems a most urgent
place of peace
the golden gate harbors a cemetary
for colored boys who've committed suicide
though some would prefer to believe
only white folks do shit like that
only white folks prop chairs below ceiling fans
have hearty last suppers
prepared with ingredients
from medicine cabinets
only white folks break when broken
and am tired of our bullshit
lying to ourselves
(exhale)
I only wish that i could have been
his savior
(again)
break bread with him
write another poem on his skin
to remind him not to forget
he is beautiful
when he disremembers
but on Monday he lost sight
took flight
and I was not there
to shake him out of it
did not get a call
was not given the chance to give my all
be the savior he has been for me
on tuesday i got the news
a friend held me through tears
my eyes are still recovering from the flood-rush
i recall my psych ward downspiral
when he appeared
held my hand, wiped tears from my face
reminded me of hope
beyond the overwhelming darkness
obscuring my shine
and the light it provided for black boys
like him
(in hell)
on wednesday i had to deliver the news to others
it is thursday
i still do not know why
i disappeared from his scope
so i will live
if only to continue being
reason enough for people to keep living
even when I struggle with that same darkness
that acute lapse of judgement
when hurting overshadows joy
I'll remember his first flight
as reason enough
to catch myself
ensure his poetry
takes shape through my next breath
inhale
exhale
remember to breathe
___________________________________
For a continuous effort to keep the memory of Rickey alive, as well as other photos of my beautiful friend, go to:
http://www.our-memories-of.com/Rickey_Williams/Home.aspx
2 comments:
First off let me thank you for visiting my site. As a black gay man who since my teenage years in the late 60s and early 70s who have suffered from depression and have had many bouts of suicidal thoughts, which the last time two years ago was so bad that I had to go on medication which I am still on, I know first hand the disability that it causes. Where you get to the point where the only thing that you have left that you can control is your own life in your hands. I count myself lucky to still be living at the age of 53 because many times have I prepared myself for death and by the grace and help of friends and family was I brought back from the edge, and did not take that final step. During those suicidal depression times I didn’t want to or couldn’t reach out to others for help and kept my decision to take my life a secret. Twice in that state did I throw or give away my belonging and threw away all the poetry that I had with me. The last time two years ago what stopped me was something as simple as not knowing what to do with my dog janwanza, which I loved very much and did not want to just leave because I thought that she desired more then to just be abandoned. It is not thinking that you are worthless as some may suppose but it is a weariness of the soul, of being tired of the fight that life is and thinking that all is against you. This it was for me. I thought that I no longer wanted to give and give when everything seemed for nought.
I blamed myself for my state and thought that it was no other’s business what I did with my life. It was mine alone to do as I wish with. I hope that this gives you some small insight into the world of depression
david. you have a lot to learn about me. LOL. Not sure if what I said led you to think that I was unfamiliar with depression myself... in fact, Rickey knew well about my own struggle (medicated and not). Still, thanks for your comment. Just know that more people understand what you describe than you may think. I happen to be one of those, though I have found ways to bring myself back to the me who knows he is loved...and not too weary to fight....for life...for those who so fully love me.
Post a Comment