For my son….
By Cassandra IsFree
Dear Son,
I owe you an apology
I knew before your conception that your genealogy would place a target on your back
Just for being black
I knew you would be viewed as a criminal based solely on your complexion
And I can’t guarantee your survival, only offer you my protection
My Prince – I Would Die For You
I can’t count the nights I’ve already cried for you
For your future, for the abuse of your peers
Young black men are being slaughtered but our cries fall on death’s ears
Or so it would appear
That your worth is not appreciated
If anything it has been depreciated
By those hired to serve and protect
But some of them would rather break your neck
In the back of a police truck
Call it a suicide even though you were handcuffed
So I just wanna say I’m sorry for bringing you into the chaos
My tears blend in with the raindrops from the storm raging
It’s like they won’t be happy til we storm the streets rampaging
Engaging into street combat, labeled thugs and hood rats, riff raff
Murders only acknowledged as mishaps, paid leave while the investigators chit-chat
These killers get more breaks than kit-kats and I ain’t with that
So again, I’m sorry that despite how much love I have for you
I’ve brought you into a situation that’s bad for you
Where your skin tone is hazardous to your health
Walking or driving while black is hazardous to yourself
I could pull a Lil Kim and bleach your skin, but unlike her, I want you to love the skin you’re in
So how can I make the world safer for you
I try to be a pain eraser for you but some of these officers have penciled you in
To either pump lead into you or pin you in the pen, make you look bad on paper in order to throw the book at you later
Baby boy, I wish the world was a better place
I wish my poker face was better but sometimes you really have to know when to hold em and fold em
I want you to be bold and a leader
But also survive and thrive
But I don’t know if you can do either
Because the way things are headed
You’re not even 3 yet and the days of you playing outside alone are dreaded
So between now and then, I’ll march and fight for my black men
I’ll keep being loud and intelligent until you are viewed to be just as relevant as your white counterpart
And sweetheart, make no mistake, I don’t regret giving you life to begin with
I just wish there was less strife to contend with.
But until the day my life is ended
My firstborn – you will forever be defended.
Love always, Mom.
