← Back Published on 30th July 2020

Dear Black Child at Farm Camp

Dear Black child,
Young Black man

when was the last
time this country
saw you breathing
easily? Without stress
when you took breaths?

When your steps
were not a means
of escape from
a white man's hate?

I saw you happy.

I witnessed you hopeful.

I saw you grinning.

It was the beginning
of something so beautiful.

Unusual it may
have seemed
to see you engulfed
in nature

Away from Chicago
city life; away from strife;
away from the heights
people hold you to
because of the physical
things you can do.

We took breaths together
in the woods where no
one judged us. Where no
one had an opinion about
our skin tone or how we
walk in their neighborhoods.

It was good
to get away;
to ground
ourselves with
Earth's vibrations;

to feel grass under
our feet; to let the
birds sing us their
songs

Dear Black boy,
Young Black man

ain't this where we
belong?