This is the first spoken word poem I ever wrote and also the first I ever performed.
The day my son dies will be the day I reach the lowest pit of despair known to human kind
The day my son dies, I will surely cry a thousand tears
The day my son dies, I will begin to think of all he could’ve been and what he may have brought to this world.
The day my son dies, I will begin to hear and see “Black Lives Matter” everywhere, even though it didn’t seem to matter much on this day
The day my son dies I will regret not telling him that the skin tone he was born with should not be a curse, damning him to unwarranted fear from others
The day my son dies I will console his mother as I feel that I have failed both him and her
The day my son dies I will think back to the day I told him that what’s cool does not matter, only what is right
The day my son dies I will be ignoring calls from my loved ones telling me that “God has a plan” and “Everything happens for a reason”
The day my son dies I will be filled with rage that I cannot express, in fear of sharing the same fate as my lost child
The day my son dies I will regret not telling him about how his ancestors were kings and queens, not the target practice of each other and those sworn to protect them
The day my son dies I will surely be on the news telling the people of my city to calm down and not riot, if they even chose to do so
The day my son dies I will be able to relate to the pain of Michael Brown Sr. and Tracy Martin
The day my son dies, I will be ashamed of myself, as his father was more about talk than about action
By that time I will be a shell of my former self, a man no longer willing to fight against an unjust system
I will hate myself because I was too caught up in “life” to do anything about the senseless killings of black youth
Nothing will matter when my son dies, just the fact that that which I love most in this world, is no longer apart of it
But why should I wait for this fate to meet my unborn son
Why not take action now, while his father is young
