Transcript

I’m Major Jackson and this is The Slowdown.

Twice in my family, the absence of a will led to family squabbles after a relatives’ passing. These disputes caused pain among people who otherwise would typically laugh it up during holidays, cheer beside each other for a favorite team, or simply sit long into the evenings recalling shared memories and family lore. In some instances, irreconcilable arguments of who gets what led to full-on estrangement, to years of brothers and sisters who stopped speaking altogether to one another. So recently, I decided to be responsible and begin the process of creating a trust and establishing a will.

I thought it morbid at first. Yet, planning the aftermath of my death empowered me. I authorized a set of steps. I thought about poems I wanted recited at my memorial service. I thought about songs, both eclectic and commemorative, for the DJ to play. I am not a control person, but I love the feeling of preparedness. Going through the mental simulation of my celebration of life made me appreciate my accomplishments. It was like I had attended my own funeral.

I don’t know when or where I will die. So having some say in that eventful day for me feels like a lavish gift to myself. Ever since, I have a greater purchase on my truth and live more in the unconscious present, where I am more involved in my family and community.

The poet Cesar Vallejo wrote in a poem, “I will die in Paris, on a rainy day, / on some day I can already remember.” Today’s poem is modeled on the whimsical assurance and power of auguring your own departure from this earth.

After Vallejo
by A.B. Spellman

i will die in havana in a hurricane
it will be morning, i’ll be facing southwest
away from the gulf, away from the storm
away from home, looking to the virid hills
of matanzas where the orisha rise, lifted 
by congueros in masks of iron, bongoseros
in masks of water, timbaleros in masks of fire
by all the clave that binds the rhythms of this world

i’ll be writing when i go, revising another 
hopeful survey of my life. i will die of nothing
that i did but of all that i did not do
i promised myself a better self
than i could make & i will not forgive

you will be there, complaining
that i never saved you, that i left you 
where you live, stranded
in your own green dream

when you come for me come singing
no dirge, but scat eulogy in bebop
code. sing that i died among gods
but lived with no god & did not suffer
for it. find one true poem that i made
& sing it to my shade as it fades 
into the wind. sing it presto, in 4/4 time
in the universal ghetto key of b flat

i will die in havana in rhythm. tumbao
montuno, guaguanco, dense strata 
of rhythm pulsing me away
                                                               & the mother of waters
will say to the saint of crossroads
well, damn. he danced his way out after all

“After Vallejo” by A.B. Spellman from BETWEEN THE NIGHT AND ITS MUSIC © 2024 A.B. Spellman. Used with the permission of Wesleyan University Press.