Beautiful Terminal by Diane ‘Fury’ Wiltshire
They tell me to “treasure your bundle of joy”
As they feast their eyes on my baby boy
They smile and pinch every wrinkle and dimple
Promising that love from this world will be simple
For this smiling cherub I have birthed from my soul
“Give him to us” they say, “protection will be our goal.”
But as he grows nothing is further from the truth
Identifying their disregard will not require a sleuth
To see he ranks lower to them than an animal
And the color of his skin renders him terminal
So my sweet baby boy may not grow to a man
DNA determines his shorter lifespan.
So what should I do? Should I keep him inside?
Shutters closed, curtains drawn, cower down and hide?
Inflict upon him the injustices of a world
Where the white man is king with his hatred unfurled?
Should I erase his smiles and turn his rights to ashes
Just as they did his ancestors with rapes and lashes?
So I resist, I revolt, I insist he is free
And I hold my breath hoping he can come home to me
I cover him with prayer each time he walks out
Asking God to protect him so he will never know about
How much he is hated just because he is black
Dreading the knock on my door… “Ma’am your son is never coming back.”
They tricked me, they lied, this world never loved my son
Why would they? The white man can never be outdone
No black man, no colored, shit! No nigger
Will ever walk this earth as long as their finger can find a trigger
So all that is left is for us to seethe
In the face of yet another black man who can’t breathe.