Poems

My Little Red Boy

My little black boy.

You will die.

You will become a martyr.

You will be the face that everyone sees in a protest.

You will be the boy behind the gun.

You will be the thug they see walking down the streets.

You will be a symbol to others.

But you’re my little black boy.

My son behind that gun.

My son is a symbol.

My son seen as a thug.

My son dead.

My little black boy dead.

Not black blood. Not white blood.

Red.

My little red boy.

A symbol that too many black boys turn red.

 

 

 

By Satura Dudley

Kristen

Kristen is a contributor for Girl Spring. Her posts focus on Girl Spring updates and current events.

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