Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!
For this session we read a poem “What Sucks About the Afterlife” by Andrea Gibson, posted below.
Our prompt was: โWrite about the mistake factory.โ
Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โLeave a Replyโ), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.
Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโre able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!
**Please note that following our session on Monday, August 4th, we will be taking a summer break. Stay tuned for updates on our return in September! **
“What Sucks About the Afterlife” by Andrea Gibson
On Earth, everyone loved butterflies,
but I trusted the caterpillars more.
I trusted the ones who knew
they were not done growing.
On Earth, I was a work in progress,
was comforted in knowing
that I had a million mistakes still in me
to learn from. I changed my mind
more often than I changed my socks,
and whenever I was criticized
for mismatched thoughts, Iโd say,
who wants to be today
who they were yesterday?
Becoming was how I prayed.
But hereโI am past the finish line:
I have a heart of gold,
and I never have to dig for it.
I couldnโt do anything wrong if I tried,
and trust me, I try, but
I get hot-headed, and my rage
toasts the marshmallow on an angelโs
celestial sโmores. I lose my temper and find it
in the halo lost-and found box.
Lies wonโt let me tell them.
they handed me a sticker
that said My Name Is and I wrote
Everyone by accident. I canโt remember
what selfishness is. Yesterday I said
something angry about an ex, and a quarter
of my tastebuds jumped off my tongue.
Iโve known nothing
of bitterness since.
Right before I died, I thought,
In the afterlife, Iโll apply for a job
at a mistake factory. Theyโll be awed
by my resume. If anything, Iโm overqualified.
But thereโs no place where they make
mistakes here. Everyone is flawless.
Everyoneโs blunders are photoshopped
right off their lives before
they even happen. Is this heaven
or hell? I canโt tell. I looked
that famous carpenter up
in the phone book, but his number
wasnโt listed, and I need to ask him
where to find the wood to build
some missteps. Iโm not about to spend
eternity burning in the lie that holy
and perfect are the same thing.
Do you understand?
A promised land
is not a promised land
if I canโt keep learning
Credit:Andrea Gibson
Connections in Narrative Medicine 