Death of a Heritage

by Kaylee-Nicole Eyabi Axley Award Finalist

Here lies. . .

Music we stepped and jived to on tile floors unfit for swarms of bodies, littered with crumpled bills for newlyweds, for those who made it one more year, and those who didn’t. You will go and take our functions and barbecues and wakekeepings with you.

Dance for us in the afterlife. We’ll do our part down here and listen from bluetooth speakers.

Here lies. . .

Cuisine that has crossed borders and stood the test of time. Heaping plates and platters and bowls on any surface that will hold them. Heavy aromas fade with a single wash, with time, with you. Soon enough, these aromas and my brain will become strangers.

Here lies. . .

Words and sayings and phrases heard from birth, understood in formative years, finally spoken at confidence’s arrival. Whenever that was. A language you spoke, easy as breathing. A language we only used to hear each others’ laughter. I wonder what words or sayings or phrases will we use at your funeral. I don’t like to think about it. Let’s just continue laughing.

Here lies all that will remain after you all are gone. We’ll do our best to keep it alive— the barbecues held during weekend-long celebrations, our food that demands all-day preparation and collective effort, our vernacular uttered by those who hail from the land —and breathe life back into it should it begin to falter. But, too much faith leaves us no room on pedestals you carved our names on. Don’t be surprised when— if we tumble from them. Please don’t be disappointed either. Please. We’re sorry. Rest well.