You have yet to be born
You have yet to be conceived
But I see you in my dreams
And I dream of the man you will be
And I pray that God would help me to prepare you for this world
Even though I sometimes worry this world is not prepared for you
You are the seed of your mommy and daddy’s hopes and dreams
Irish, African, Scottish, Southern, American
You will be the best remix we will ever help to create
I want you to know your roots
That you come from hardworking people
That you are a descendant of slave and free
I want to play for you the songs of your people
Made on porches and hills
In villages and in cities
In the songs of the free
And the blues of the oppressed
I want you to always find yourself
Your skin
Will be a mix of daddy’s freckles
A tinge of red hair
The rich hue of soil
Sweetened by sun
My son
You will be a symphony of skin tones
A roux of all the generational colors and shades that helped create you
Your hair will curl at the slightest humidity or rain
Will bend and twirl
Constantly searching for beats for minute and electric frequency
Your wide shoulders and chest
Will carry the load God gives you to bear
While helping you to surrender that load to the One who has already carried it all
Your hands are meant for pianos, for saxophones
For carpentry, for artistry
For sketching the architecture and design that comes to your mind
For handling scalpel and needle to fix heart and brain
For lifting praise, for counting the days
For drawing the line
For knowing when to stand up and fight
When it’s time
I want to prepare you
For walking out of our door
Into a world that may see you
brown skin and fear it
Misunderstand it
Demand it be subdued
I want you to walk tall, with your shoulders
back as your grandma taught me to
But because I love you
I will tell you sad truths
Everyone will not love your brown
skin as much as you do
There have been many men and
women before you
Who lost their lives for having the
same brown skin you do
My son
I will not teach you to walk in fear
To judge anyone by their color of
skin or the money they make
Only by their character and the
respect they choose to give or take
I will pray for you every night
And think of the mothers of Oscar, Sean,
Amadou, Trayvon, Emmett, Michael
And so many more
Whose hope for what would have
been their son’s future now lies in you
And I will hug you
And kiss you
Even if it embarrasses you
For all the mama’s kisses missed
For all the things these sons
didn’t live to experience
My son, every life matters
Their lives mattered
Your life matters too I love you,
Your future mommy