Breathe.

(After the verdict)

Breathe

A long-winded exhale of the collective

 of the culture 

of mothers whose worst nightmare is watching their babies walk out into the world

 Armed with brown Hues and resilience

 Breathe with closed eyes and Full Hearts

 Like Church Mother's clad in Ivory at revivals

 Arms outstretched

 A million Black Mamas

 With helpless hands

 Armed with prayer 

Breathe

 because today it wasn't your baby

 breaths one low and sullen breath 

not quite Joy but rather accountability 

Finally

 Breathe a breath

 that comes from the bowels of stolen wombs

Then suit up

 We are far from done

 Until the last piece is burnt to the ground 

Cinders