Fathering The Sickness (AKA Ministering to the Sick)

Guest Poetry by Hakim Bellamy

Albuquerque, NM, Poet Laureate and DCG DADvisory Team Member

I’ve noticed during this time of social distancing and isolation that it has been a challenge for some when it comes to self-distancing. More of us seem to find it harder to dwell within during this time of ubiquitous foreboding and the steady drumbeat of the mounting and unrelenting death toll.

Some find it uncomfortable to spend increasing amounts of time with themselves. Others may learn to embrace it. It can be a time for the kind of introspection that allows for new insights, as well as an opportunity to see gifts where we may not have noticed them or fully appreciated them. If we become mindful of these new insights and use them to recalibrate priorities in the days/daze ahead, it can serve as a balm for our bruised souls, can strengthen our resolve, and may even serve as a self-administered vaccine to prevent a pandemic of our spirit, and to provide a more mindful, sensitive roadmap into the future.

With this in mind, we're proud to present this week's Daddying guest post, a poem titled "Fathering the Sickness" by Hakim Bellamy. To say Hakim is a loving dad, an admired poet, and a dear friend is an understatement on all counts. He and his work mean and do so much more than any of those labels could possibly convey. One glance at his professional bio below, and you'll get some idea of what I'm talking about.

Now I'll step aside so you may experience Hakim's inspiring voice in a piece he says is "much more personal than the pandemic." We're grateful he's provided Daddying this never-before-published poem as an exclusive. Please share and, as always, daddy on. - Allan

You can LISTEN to Hakim recite his poem as you read along

Hakim w/ fiancee Francesca, son Kaylem & Allan Shedlin

Fathering The Sickness

(AKA Ministering to the Sick)

Dad wouldn’t have done anything different in a pandemic.

He was always stockpiling essentials.

Long before his memories were unhoardable,

he was practicing loss.

He was already fasting.

Already praying alone.

Volunteered rainy day smiles,

even when he didn’t have to,

so we’d have enough happy saved up

to light our way through the power outages.

He knew one day

We’d need each other

more than we needed anything else.

Including attention.

Including connection.

He already new the difference between the Depression

and a blessing.

He would have called this both,

and only occasionally remind us

of the sadness that every so often overwhelms

the father of three Black men,

exhausted from seven decades

of successfully protecting them from things

they cannot see

that are trying to kill them.

We were already his social life.

We were what he did for fun.

So much parent assigned homework

we felt homeschooled

from jump.

This would have been nothing new.