image: Alyssa Herron

by Alyssa Herron

I was afraid he'd stop breathing 
During his impossible naps 
I was afraid he'd fall and bleed 
When he started walking too soon 
I was afraid his own cells 
Wouldn't stop attacking his body 
I look at him now 
And see 
This beautiful, peaceful, happy 
White son 
Barely beyond a decade 
Full of joy 
But sometimes, 
I look at his crumpled face 
And see 
his anger 
Will someone be afraid of him someday? 
I've been hurt by white men 
Death 
Divorce 
Desertion 
Denial 
Never with such devastation 
Will my son 
Who looks like killers 
Be someone who hurts? 
How do I stop? 
What do I say? 
How can I discipline? 
When step away? 
Will I be afraid of him? 
The boy I loved the 
Moment he formed 
Before any of him 
Formed 
And then we formed him 
Or tried 
What if 
I'm afraid 

author’s note: inspiration for this piece, “Raising a son who looks like our killers”

Alyssa Herron is a writer, actor, and a scared mother. This piece, and additional words and images lie at www.darkyarnproductions.com. You can find on tw @dark_yarn.