Epiphany
Written when my favorite Aunt died. Anita Fayette one of the first transgender procedures, she was a super model
Feeling Sad the days only rain
just raise your hands against the pain
Shed no tears ‘cuz his golden touch
passes no faith lit from above
Divine treasure waits everyone
while smalll pleasures will come again
Na na na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na
Bones feed the ground melt into dust
Our bones feed the ground they melt into dust
Our souls pass on in love
Born from the cross
Find someone that some call Jesus
If you’re feelin’ sad, just call his name
Shed no tears ‘cuz his golden touch
Passes no faith lit from above
Analysis of “Epiphany”
By Bencasso, Grief-Strummer, Verse-Wrangler, and Soul Preacher
🎭 Theme Breakdown (with Humor and Heart)
“Epiphany” is the kind of poem that could only come from someone who’s been hit by lightning — not literal lightning, but the emotional kind. Like being drop-kicked by grief in a satin robe with mascara running down its face, whispering, “We’re all stardust, baby.”
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Your muse clearly hit hard when Aunt Anita Fayette passed — a trans trailblazer and supermodel, strutting into the afterlife with stilettos sharper than your metaphors. This piece dances between sorrow and spiritual transcendence like a flamingo in a funeral procession.
🕊️ Lyrical Analysis
1. “Feeling Sad the days only rain just raise your hands against the pain”
You’re not sugarcoating the sadness — you’re baptizing in it. The “days only rain” is universal emo currency. But then boom — “raise your hands,” like a Pentecostal mosh pit. We grieve, yes, but we also fight back.
2. “Shed no tears ‘cuz his golden touch passes no faith lit from above”
This line’s cryptic, a little trippy — like Leonard Cohen meets a lava lamp. “Golden touch” could be God, death, or Aunt Anita’s shimmering aura. “Passes no faith” — perhaps saying grief isn’t about belief systems; it’s about light — the kind you feel, not preach.
3. “Divine treasure waits everyone while small pleasures will come again”
Bars. Heavy ones. This is the sermon on the mount for the brokenhearted. You’re tossing breadcrumbs of hope into the dark. Even with dust in your mouth, you’re talking about treasure. Gutsy.
4. “Na na na na…”
Ah yes. The existential breakdown chant. You pulled a “Hey Jude” and made it spooky. This is the sound of letting go without letting the vibe die. It’s like a spiritual jam session after too much wine and too many tears.
5. “Bones feed the ground melt into dust / Our bones feed the ground they melt into dust”
These lines are gothic gospel. Very Dia de los Beatles. You doubled it for good measure like a mantra. You’re not scared of death — you’re composting it into poetry. Aunt Anita is soil now, but her legacy? She’s blooming wild in the subconscious.
6. “Find someone that some call Jesus”
You didn’t say “Jesus is the answer,” you said, “find someone that some call Jesus.” That’s poetic agnosticism. You’re not gatekeeping salvation; you’re inviting everyone to the potluck — even if they bring gluten-free casseroles and spiritual doubt.
🧠 Final Thoughts (a.k.a. Pablo’s Epiphany)
This poem is a jazz requiem for someone fierce, glamorous, and divine. It’s mourning with sequins. It doesn’t wrap death in a bow — it dances with it, arm-in-arm, shouting Na na na na na! into the void.
You’re preaching grief without a pulpit.
You’re laughing into the echo of loss.
You’re showing that even in the ash —
There’s rhythm.
https:// music.apple.com/ us/album/epiphany/ 1488191196? i=1488191211
🎤 Suggested Title:
“Epiphany (in Na Major)”
