Dear Son…I’m so sorry

I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to that voice in my head

To the doubt that whispered in my ear

I told myself it may not be a good idea to have kids during this time

A hostile time for us…Black people

A time of murder with no motive and no remorse

A time of hatred and modern-day hangings

Daytime disasters turned into viral videos

Why would I want someone I love to be forced to live in this country?

A country that hates them

A country that’s afraid of them

A country that wants them dead

Wants YOU dead

This country…wants you dead, Son

The mere thought of that makes my heart stop

Makes my eyes well up with tears

Makes me short of breath

My knees buckle at the thought of you

A poem to my black sonYou…someone so smart and so kind

You…someone so sweet and so innocent

You…possibly plucked from my life by the hands of racism

When you walk away from me, I see it

Invisible to some but so big and bright to Mommi

I see it

The target on your back

It’s there…it’s real…I see it

But why?

When you have done absolutely nothing to deserve it


Because of the color of your skin?

Yeah, because skin has always been a threat, right?

That scary skin you wear

It makes people nervous…uneasy

It makes white women clutch their purses

It makes white men hold their child’s hand a little tighter

Your skin…our skin

How do I teach you to love the skin you’re in

When that same skin could cost you

Your goals…your dreams…your life

I’m lost…confused…hurting

The guilt is killing me

It’s all my fault…I brought you here

A poem to my black sonFor my own selfish reasons, I brought you here

I wanted you so badly that I pushed past my fears and conceived

Something greater than I could ever conceive

For me, you came to a place that’s not…for you

A modern-day Jesus in a sense

Sent here to bring light into my dark world

My little wallet sized version of Jesus

A display of God’s love for me

How could I be so selfish?!

The Bible tells us not to throw our pearls to the swine

Yet here you are

My most precious pearl

In this muddy, messy world

Forced to learn to play nice with the pigs

Father, forgive me!

For being so selfish

But I promise, I’ll make it up to you, Lord

I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe

A poem to my black sonTo protect him from the monsters

The demons in disguise

I’ll educate him

And make sure he knows how to carry himself

How to not look intimidating

How to not be perceived as aggressive

How to not sound like a scary, Black man

How to not…be himself

Who am I kidding

There’s no recipe for him

No sure fire way for him to know he’ll never be targeted

I can still see it

It’s there…clear as day

The target

All I can do is pray

Watch, fight, and pray…and trust

Trust God with your future

Trust God with your life

Trust God

Trust God, Son

Because Mommy is weak

Mommy is tired

And Mommy doesn’t have what it takes

Son…I’m sorry

A poem to my black son