To the black boy in the barber shop

Anonymous


Photo by Edgar Chaparro on Unsplash

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

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