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: “Write about the mistake factory.”

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), 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 you’re 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, I’d say,
who wants to be today 

who they were yesterday?
Becoming was how I prayed.
But here—I am past the finish line: 

I have a heart of gold,
and I never have to dig for it.
I couldn’t do anything wrong if I tried,
and trust me, I try, but 

I get hot-headed, and my rage
toasts the marshmallow on an angel’s
celestial s’mores. I lose my temper and find it
in the halo lost-and found box. 

Lies won’t let me tell them.
they handed me a sticker
that said My Name Is and I wrote
Everyone by accident. I can’t remember 

what selfishness is. Yesterday I said
something angry about an ex, and a quarter
of my tastebuds jumped off my tongue.
I’ve known nothing 

of bitterness since.
Right before I died, I thought,
In the afterlife, I’ll apply for a job
at a mistake factory. They’ll be awed 

by my resume. If anything, I’m overqualified.
But there’s no place where they make
mistakes here. Everyone is flawless.
Everyone’s blunders are photoshopped 

right off their lives before
they even happen. Is this heaven
or hell? I can’t tell. I looked
that famous carpenter up 

in the phone book, but his number
wasn’t listed, and I need to ask him
where to find the wood to build
some missteps. I’m 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 can’t keep learning

Credit:Andrea Gibson