Every Time I Ever Said I Want to Die - Andrea Gibson

[Lawrence Robinson]

Every Time I Ever Said I Want to Die

Every time I ever said I want to die
- I meant I am willing to do anything to live.
Even leave this world forever.

        Even build a new home a top a nebula, stick a straw 
        into a buried lake on Mars, get tipsy on anti-gravity 
        and invent new constellations walking the lines 
            between undiscovered stars 

        When God pulls me over and asks,
        “Can you touch your nose?” I could say, 
               “what nose?” 

        I’d be bodiless, a shadow in reverse,
        a patch of light made by the darkness 
               I escaped. 

The psychology manuals say no one really wants 
to die. They want relief. They believe they will never 
find it in this world. That’s belief could be right.
       Or wrong.

One would have to stay to find out.
Friend, if you stay, at least we will be 
together, and I have an extra straw.

     I could show you where the lakes on this planet 
     are buried. How you did not need light-years 
     to reach them. The dark years work too.
     Sometimes better. Sometimes grief 
                  is the fastest route to truth.

     And in addition to the straw, 
     I also have a slingshot that fires rock 
     bottoms directly at the sun until change
                spills from its golden pockets—

     that’s how I got my hands on this
     summer afternoon. We can do anything
     with it. Sunbathe or scream or forgive ourselves 
     everything, most especially the thread 
we could not 
               convince to close our wounds.

If your wounds are still open, trust 
they are doors to an answer,
and walk through. 

What if we don’t have to be healed 
to be whole? There are holes in every inch
of the fabric that makes me who I am.

But pull the string on my back 
and I’ll say I LOVE YOU and mean it 
whenever you want.

Come flood my home 
with your eyes. I’ve read that people scream when they are in pain because screaming 

actually lessens the pain -
anyone who asks you to hold your tongue
 is asking you to hold the heaviest thing 

in the galaxy. Forget them and remember you can tell me anything about how hard it is 
to stop flirting with your expiration date. 

I understand being wooed by the finish line 
of sadness. Infinity still sends me nudes 
every day. I won’t deny she looks amazing, 

but I’m taken. My hand now promised 
to writing every page of my story 
except its end. Friend, you are 

who taught me that a difficult life is not less
worth living than a gentle one. Joy is just easier 
to carry than sorrow, and you could lift a city

from how long you’ve spent holding
what’s been nearly impossible to hold. 
This world needs those who know

how to do that. Those who can find 
a tunnel with no light at the end 
of it and hold it up like a telescope 

to show that the darkness contains 
many truths that can bring the light 
to its knees. Grief astronomer, 

adjust the lens, look close. Tell us
what you see.

	- Andrea Gibson

	(August 13, 1975 - July 14, 2025)
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