Dear Future Son

Location

20784
United States
38° 56' 51.8424" N, 76° 52' 50.6784" W

When my hips make like prayer books,
and I have a son
I will tell him:
my father is weak
but doctors mistake it for heart disease.
Those doctors are fools.
They don't know of the lack of childhood
that was granted on me,
dealing with that man who's heart
has too much plaque build up,
he doesn't even know what love
feels like anymore.
Man of the house does not apply
in this household.
Don't be like your grandfather,
only made of ugly and hate and curse words.
Your tongue comes from a long line of swords,
made for killing with words.
I pray that you know what to do with it,
I try my best to make something with this burden,
I disguise it as art,
these words aren't lovely.
Only journals scratched with mix-matched ink.

Keep your head up high
and walk straight,
you are a black boy:
the most powerful and most misunderstood weapon this world has to offer.
People will pull at your shirt strings
and dare to call you Pinocchio,
when their noses are the ones
that are supposed to be growing.
You born as a king,
no amount of stereotypes will change that,
they want to dismantle your crown,
as if royalty
was something to drift away
in grapevines.
Remember you are a black boy,
one of the hardest thing to be these days.

Be careful with your hands,
I've been hurt by boys
with sporadic fingers and dare to call themselves men.
Hands only belong where they have permission to.
This world has so many cookie jars
and shiny objects
that aren't meant to be touched, boy.
So don't make dark alleys and closed corners of your hips,
don't make broken walls and body parts out of your fists,
and don't touch all the bad parts
unless you were asked to.
Your hands have dark history
that can't be washed off,
not even with holy water.
Be careful where you leave your handprints.

Don't be as weak as I am;
all broken bones and and misplaced intentions.
There is no good in praying on
eggshells or tightropes,
so never risk it.
Believe me.
You’re gonna get lied to in this world
with smoke and mirrors and masks
it’s hard to know what is real
don’t be as foolish as me,
I believe in everything.

My father is lonely
so I'm lonely too,
all purgatory beds and nowhere to be needed,
I hope it can be diluted
through blood ties.
You can be alone,
but you don't have to be lonely, love.
And you're gonna get scared sometimes,
don't hide it.

And I love you,
no matter what.

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