Andrea Gibson Poetry

This was re-shared through Xicanisma on Facebook from Andrea Gibson’s page. I love it.

On my death bed
I might not give much thought
to my pronouns,
or who got them wrong.
Who I am might not mean much then,
in the moment right before
I am about to be Everything.
But for now, I am so human,
and so easily soothed
by the sound of somebody
calling me home with a name
I can find myself in. For now
that porch light is a universe
where nothing that is tender
doubts I exist.


The end is my favorite part because it’s as tender as the last line says. The sound of your own name said with love is so sweet.


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