I will always worry.
I will always be afraid.
Of losing you to the hands of a white supremacist full of nothing but rage.
I will always shake in my boots.
I will always forget to breathe.
Because each day you walk out that door I could live a reality I never want to believe.
I will always be protective.
I will always urge you to be aware.
Of the color of your brown skin that still seems come off as a scare.
I will always call you if you’re five minutes late.
And I will always tremble when you don’t pick phone.
Because fear will tell me a racist white man has beaten you to the bone.
Understand that I say these words with a heavy heart.
And Believe me this is a conversation I’ve been hesitating to start.
But it needed to be said.
I needed you to know.
How I’m feeling each and every time you go.
These are words from a black woman of a black husband.
These are words from a black woman of a black son.
These are words from a black woman of a black daughter.
These are words of a black woman in America.
We fear for you because we love you.
We fear for you because we adore you.
We fear for you because we need you.
Please, God just bring him home tonight.
Please, God give me a sign that he’ll be alright.
These are words of a black woman’s prayer…from the crack of dawn to when the sun sets at night.