My sanity visibly scattered
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 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.
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?”