This will be in the upcoming work dedicated to my father, DADDY, I’M OKAY.

When I’m tired,

my mother tells

me to stop wiping

and holding my face

like my daddy did

when he was tired.

I think that,

even in those

neurons and synapses

That is my father,

reaching from the beyond

into me to let me know

that he still wants

to take care of me.

I want him so bad,

“Daddy, I’m okay.”

I know with you

being so far away,and

you being into the mystery, and

me eight years from

the point from

where your heart beat

For the last time,

I still want to say:

“Daddy, I’m okay.”

I won’t lie and say

There aren’t days

Where I ache for

your voice and

Rely on your grit—

It is impossible not to miss you.

There are days

I struggle to remember

all you were,

all that you are,

and what you meant to me.

In this world of grief and strife

it sometimes makes memory

so hazy,

that I have to struggle

to remember your voice.

I have now crossed

a threshold in this life,

I have been without you

more than I had you.

I understand if God be for me,

I will have more years

in front of me,

and that holds

the unique paradox

that I might forget you.

And yet Daddy, I’m okay.

I’m okay because

for whatever reason

you fit to give me

rock —and to speak to it,

to demand

I’m not let go of it!

That you endowed

this pretty Black girl

who is now

a strong Black woman

with enough in her

in 17 summers

to summon

when the storms of life rage!

Daddy, I’m okay.

I’m gonna be okay

until it’s okay

speak okay

Until a way is made!

And Daddy, I’m okay…

You can rest now.

I am reminded

there is no time limit

on how long

A father will

love his daughter—

even from million miles away.

I take solace that even on my dying day,

I’ll still be your babygirl.

Daddy… Immabe OK.

-JBHarris, 4.2024