I need to protect you.

My love for you is unfathomable. 

From the moment of your conception, a blessing you were.

My little cocoa bean, I delight in you.

Sometimes you catch me stealing glimpses of you.

I want to protect you.

When you leave my presence, I worry about you.

“Will you make it home alive?”

“Will, I ever get to see you again?”

Oh God, please protect him.

…

I turn on the news.

Another shooting.

Another unarmed young Black man- gone.

My heart… I can’t think. 

Could it… no it can’t be.

My legs start shaking.

I frantically dial your number.

Struggling to maintain my composure, I forget how to breathe.

It rings, no response.

I call again.

Nothing.

Tears roll down my cheeks,  my entire body is shaking. 

A Category 7 storm rips me apart

I fight against my thoughts.

“Did I do enough to protect him?”

My anxieties devour me.

They pick at me like vultures at a carcass.

My sanity visibly scattered – it’s existence questioned.

…

I see your text.

“Mom, I’ll be home soon.”

I allow myself to complete a breath.

My body relaxes immediately.

A prayer escapes my lips.

A close call.

But I’ve done all I can, I’ve invested all my time and energy into raising you.

“How much longer will I be able to protect you?”

“Where will our story end?”