Anonymous
To the black boy in the barber shop
I hear your quiet
slow stepped
Head down
Walk into your belonging
Where one liners are mailboxes
And strangers become your neighbors
Uncles
Fathers
Friend,
I hope you feel home in the hand shakes
Or at least something like a house in the sound
In this meeting place of insecurity and safety
Where blades are close to blood and beauty
Where it is easy to speak betrayal
And just as easy to take the blame
I cannot tell you how to make friends
But they will try
To love you the same way they learned
In this place
In this peace
This classroom
This roof
This war
I promise the grays of their beards are familiar with the truth
Even when you know better
To the black boy in the barbershop
Sometimes I prefer whispering in public too
And you are braver than me