(silence) because ferguson is so loud

are no words for
this feeling
i, a black woman,
raising a son
also black
mid nightmare in
this unreal this…

i am trayvon’s mother
i am jordan’s mother
i am michael’s mother
i am eric’s mother i am
and i have no words
not for this this feeling
that grips me in places
beneath my marrow
rending my flesh
yanking me into fetal
position where a scream
unyielding demands out

there in the pit of who I am
there are no words but sounds
i cannot contain
it tears at me it
has chomped through my spleen
slowly working its way past
my nervous system
i have held it
years and i
can no longer sit
still devoutly praying stoic
in courtrooms
in coroner offices
across power coated
steel dividers

you castigate my
son who is dead
labeling him thief
u who have no memory
of his first steps
u who never wiped a
tear or bent to kiss
a scraped knee u
who won’t know that
he hates bananas but
will cross the street without
looking for a blueberry ripe
on the vine

u kill and u
do not know and
this thing that simmers within
is not a word
it is a pained moan
building and building
building and building
devouring me birthing

flesh of my flesh
bone of my bone this
is my son u hunt this
is my son my pretty
brown baby boy with
eyes like saucers
frogs in pockets
mud between toes and
that outside smell rumbling though
my house making it more home
than knickknacks and petit armoires

this is my son
my son
my justin
my marcell
my xavion
my isaiah
my courtney
my daniel
my brian
my mario
my d’shon
my traymoni
my savion
my son u hunt

this bawl
loudening in me
birthed of my spirit
housing this pain
i see u look at my son
my baby my precious little miracle
think nigga
think target practice
think thug
think delinquent
never mind his
soccer uniform his
graduation cap his
soldier medals these
words inundate spaces
linking u to I in
a battle for his life

i see u grab hold to ur children
push them behind u as he
walks by in your fantasy the
boogie man is a
black man
i have no words
this feeling boils
new york

images play out
little boy skin so brown
chocolate envies him
eyes so round lashes bend
into lids plays with no caution
laughing running happy
where is that place
where is that place where
a little boy black can be a
boy without someone thinking
he’s trying to steal without
someone sketching his face
posting his picture
where is that place where
a little boy black can run
without being chased
walk without looking over
his shoulder where
is that place where
life and liberty and all that
shit u claim for urself
is also his where
is that place where
this mother this
black mother can exhale
knowing if i send him
my son who
is carson who
is david who
is marcus who
is jalen who
is tramaine who
is sean who
is curtis who
is cedric who
is langston
to the store


2 Comments Add yours

  1. I have no words… but I wanted you to know my tears flowed as I read your poem.

    1. I appreciate the read. Thank you.

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