My Dear Son,

You have your mother’s anxious tender heart

and couldn’t sleep the other night having heard

how another child felt as shots rang loudly

through the corridors of his school. 

Now I, your mother, cannot rest 

since learning how a child only 15 years of age 

brought a stolen gun and ammo to his school, 

a private show-and-tell. 

We’ve walked past that school, 

just around the corner and a block away 

from where you sat today 

in your “safe” suburban classroom. 

Tomorrow I will hug and wish you a good day, 

my dear little boy, and watch you walk away,

walk into your school and I will pray;

to gods not there I’ll ask,

that you return to me, still safe, 

sharing silly anecdotes of your class… 

May you stay in sweet oblivion

to the threats that weigh so heavy on

your mother’s tender anxious heart.

…

Three and a half years gone by

Now he’s in junior high

Several times this year his friends

Held memory of her life’s end—

she caught cross-fire in the local mall 

casualty of a high-school brawl

with a gun 

Now my boy & I consider streets 

Packed with protestors marching to beats

demanding mercy & release

for brown folks who at their posts 

of labor unbearable to most

were stolen from family & home.

In anger we bemoan

that meddling retaliation of the “king”,

“Bring the National guard, bring the Marines!

We’ll teach these rioters things

make them turn & run

from the shadow of our guns.”

My dear growing boy,

It brings me no joy

to watch the growing mess

of heartlessness & regress

that we adults now

will pass on, but I hope somehow 

your tender caring heart will prevail

and that your generation might hail

a better tomorrow.

Love,

Mom

Originally published on DUP 16th Dec 2021 | Edited 20th Feb 2025 | Edited June 12, 2025