I loved you at the moment of conception.
Your father and I decided to extend our timeline through you. You were our eternity.
As you grew inside me, I enthusiastically prepared for your arrival.
But my enthusiasm turned into fear – fear for your survival.
I realized that the world may not be as excited to have you here.
The world may not be ready to swaddle you in their arms like I would;
may not be ready to align your path with the golden opportunities our ancestors paid in blood for.
Well you, my love, are a Black boy.
With skin of obsidian – smooth and flawless ;
deep and vast like star-studded galaxies;
warm like an indian summer in september.
You, my love, are beautiful.
But the world has yet to fully incorporate your beauty into its’ pallet.
They walk blindly, speak ignorantly, & kill unmercilessly.
They will try to color you out of history.
But I will not let them, I refuse to let them.
Your beauty, your genius, your art, your strength, your fight, your compassion, your style, your poise, your voice will live on as long as I have breath to declare it to the world.
I will write your history down.
Whether they acknowledge it or not, whether they honor it or not, whether they choose to do better or not,
it WILL be written.
Your birth will be your day of crowning and the start of your reign.
And I will be there to properly adorn you with the love and guidance they tried to deny you.
And your story – our story- will be an epic tale of triumph and glory.
So come now, and rest beside me…
we will leave the world outside for now…and dream.