What Sucks About the Afterlife - Andrea Gibson

I trusted the ones who knew they were not done growing

I shared one little poem from

Andrea Gibson

when I first started this substack. I was reading their book, You Better Be Lightning, again recently, and I just kept taking deep breaths and dog-earring almost every page. It’s that good. So I wanted to share another of their poems, and I hope you’ll start following Andrea on Substack too.

—

WHAT SUCKS ABOUT THE AFTERLIFE
by Andrea Gibson in You Better Be Lighning

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 prograss,
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 thoughs, 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

—

If you like this poem, you can watch Andrea read it or buy the book here.

I’d love to hear from you. I want to know what you think. Did you like this poem? Did any part of it resonate with you or just sound good in your ear or feel good in your mouth? Let me know!