Dear Black Mothers,<\/p>\n
I am sorry that your moments of powerful love were twisted into existential fear.<\/p>\n
I am sorry that at a time you should be able to revel in your child’s natural life, you are made to feel deep doubts of their very existence.<\/p>\n
That the monsters you protected them from underneath their beds have transitioned into real ones in the outside world.<\/p>\n
Hell, they are still busting in their bedrooms–guns blazing.<\/p>\n
While, we, the villagers just looked on.<\/p>\n
I know you felt it. As a mother you have that bond.<\/p>\n
That other-worldly, celestial, I carried you for nine months or so while you fed off of my body, heart, and soul bond.<\/p>\n
Could never be cut once the cord is gone<\/p>\n
It still thrived there within the bosom their little bodies nourished from<\/p>\n
It still manifested itself when they moved away from home for the first time and you both dream of dreams that were much more than love and hope and fear.<\/p>\n
It was there when you raised up one, not of your own blood but of your own spirit.<\/p>\n
That stellar, blessed, divine bond.<\/p>\n
I know you felt it.<\/p>\n
When your child,<\/p>\n
the human you created, molded,<\/p>\n
blessed as you\u00a0kissed their boo-boos away left this Earth.<\/p>\n
No. Not left.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t by choice that you’re little cherub with ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers transcended to a bigger human to an angel, again.<\/p>\n
Some didn’t even make it to adulthood.<\/p>\n
No. Not make it. Their growth was stunted.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t by choice that your babygirl with black curls and beautiful smile stopped breathing.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t by choice that your lil shy boy who you always dreamt about becoming a beautiful grown man with more dreams than nightmares took his last breath.<\/p>\n
No. Not that he took his last breath.<\/p>\n
It was taken from him.<\/p>\n
I am sorry that as a village we failed to stop the monsters from ripping your bonds.<\/p>\n
And now, after many of your children are still being slaughtered like God’s lambs<\/p>\n
We, the villagers, vow to make a stand<\/p>\n
That your bonds may never be torn by the monsters’ hands.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Dear Black Mothers, I am sorry that your moments of powerful love were twisted into existential fear. I am sorry that at a time you should be able to revel in your child’s natural life, you are made to feel deep doubts of their very…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1120,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-64333","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/64333","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1120"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=64333"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/64333\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":64955,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/64333\/revisions\/64955"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=64333"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=64333"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=64333"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}