Dreaming of a world unknown,
A place to where he could escape
The house he came to know as hell,
But called a home.
Behind his eyes hid the poisons that
Tend to intoxicate his mind,
Always leading to the
Misunderstandings in the communication,
Within our conversations,
And because I can’t see the explanation
Behind those eyes,
I realize that he will never truly be mine.
He lies in my lap,
Reliving that point of his childhood
To which he hadn't yet blocked out.
Like those times where he was actually wanted,
Arms stretching out to give a warm embrace,
To let him know that he was still loved.
To let him know that he was still cared about,
Thought of,
Like those brief seconds when your child
Looks into your eyes,
And reads your thoughts
And feels what you feel,
And hurts when you hurt,
And bleeds when you bleed,
And cries when you cry,
And laughs when you laugh,
And sings when you sing,
And breathes when you breathe,
And smiles when you smile,
All the while secretly filling your
Heart with a joy that you never knew
Even existed.
Single-handedly giving you that
Little gleam of hope you need to get
You through one more day,
Just one more day.
Because you feel that for one moment in your life
You are not alone,
And someone understands.
And from that one moment you are free.
So you take it into the palm of your hands
Like your first prayer, hoping to remember to
Cherish it for as long as you live
That kind of love
He lies in my lap,
Looking up at me as I
Looked back down at him, absorbing him fully
Into me, breathing in his thoughts,
Fears, cries, laughs, smiles, just for a while
Letting his mind rest from the weight of nightmares
He was carrying.
And while my hopes are on marrying,
He’s just happy to get through one more day
One more day
Without having to move from home to home
Because no one wants to deal with our young black men
Giving their only hopes for survival to the streets, or
Behind a microphone or on the court dribbling a ball
Or sitting inside a prison cell
One more day
Without wishing that his father knew he existed,
Walking up to the checkout counter every other day
Where his bills were received and change was given back
Making the tread routine, only to realize that the
Man who supposedly gave him his birthright
Refused to even lift to his head to glance and see
The resemblance of a child he left in the arms of a woman
Who could not handle it on her own, no matter how
Strong she pretended to be on the outside
Refused to look, refused to believe, every single day
Hoping never to end up a reflection of the sperm donor
That is his dad
And he is
Happy to get through one more day
Without putting a gun to his head,
Coming to terms that this is
More or less the way that things will end up
Anyway right?
If not him, then it will be somebody that looks like
Him to do the favor.
If not the man to shoot him down physically
Then a mother to shoot him down emotionally
Then a teacher to shoot him down academically
Then a preacher to shoot him down spiritually
Ending all his hurt, harm, and misery, with just one blow.
Aggression bottled up, since the day his blue moons began,
Not ending until his senility becomes permanent,
So that he can’t remember anymore
Harboring evils that I would never dream of, only to dread.
But instead using me as that little thread
Of hope to get him through
One more day,
Just one more day.
Him there, he lies in my lap
©Danie Rae
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