Dear Mothers Of Black Sons From The Mother Of White Sons…
I have the luxury to turn the other way while one more of your sons is killed today. I will never have to worry about my sons dying.
There’s something I want you to know.
I want you to know I see your sons die and lose their glow
As one more black male is shot and we see the blood flow.
This ongoing atrocity is our societal low.
The answer? We just don’t know.
I want you to know that I’m scared, too,
As I see your sons killed by men in blue.
But, I have the luxury to turn the other way,
While one more of your sons is killed today.
I will never have to worry about my sons dying
And having it covered up with accusations and lying.
I can’t begin to imagine the pain you feel.
As once again, we deny it’s even real.
While the video reveals the truth,
Calling them out has become uncouth.
Are we even watching the same scenes unfold?
I want you to know I see what is being sold.
They have become so bold.
Again and again another story is told.
The death toll is rising.
But, when black people begin organizing,
They are seen as dangerous, animalistic and appalling.
Yet, what would white people do if our sons were falling
At the hands of those who vowed to protect and serve?
Would we feel our kids were getting what they deserve?
When kneeling and peaceful protests are viewed with disgrace,
We need not even question our problem with race.
That is proof the history we intend to erase.
Yet many continue to support their case.
I want you to know I am not buying the lies and tales.
I will not stop speaking out until my very heart fails.
I will keep speaking until my voice is heard
And long after that will remain my word.
I want you to know my sons are taught
That this injustice must be fought.
They know they have a responsibility to speak out,
That we must fight until all black lives count.
I want you to know I have become hyper aware.
My camera, at ready because we all must bear
The responsibility of your sons’ lives.
Recording it all in case another denies.
It has become a never ending reprise.
Stitching our new quilt: The Fabrication of American Lies
And I will never again simply sit by.
Hear my roar, my battle cry:
Not one more black male shall die!
With Love and Hope,
Your White Ally