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Faye Turner-Johnson

Mother. . .Crying Out in the Wilderness

sirens blasting                            moving fast                                    around the corner
                                                       you come after my child
trying to live                                                                                         in this free world of ours
 
as he steps from the car                                                                     my child
early morning gym workout                                                             my child
                                                        really white people?                    my child?
 
under spotlights                                                                                    you harass
                                                        because I made him black          like me
no other color                              just black                                        like me
 
want to take my prince
                                                        wrap him                                        in swaddling clothes
 
hide this precious one                                                                         amid the safety of tall reeds
                                                        float him in a basket                    somewhere down the Nile
 
pray an alien queen rescues him
                                                        keeps him safe                             ‘til he grows into his kingship
 
                                                        mother crying out                       in the wilderness
 
because I make him black                                                                 no other color
 
                                                        so he suffers black                      like me           

Commentary

Faye on "Mother. . .Crying Out in the Wilderness":

I wrote the first lines of this poem a few years ago after a phone call from my son, an actor living in Los Angeles.
 
He called to tell me about an incident earlier that day when he had arrived at the gym for his daily 5 a.m. workout. As he parked and stepped from his vehicle, a police car sped around the corner and pulled up next to him, flooding him with flashing lights. After a few moments, they turned off the lights and drove away. Though he did not say it, I knew he had been shaken by the experience. Trying not to further upset him, I just reminded him of the proper way he must comport himself when faced with situations like this that could be life threatening.
 
As the mother of an African American male navigating his way in America in these treacherous times, the writer in me burst into rage and I wrote, “really white people…my child?” I left those words on a blank page for at least two years, not knowing what I was going to do with them. But as more and more incidents were reported of Black people being murdered all over America, I completed the poem. In it I wanted to express the agony that so many Black parents feel not being able to protect our children when, most often, their only crime is the color of their skin.
 
We have our talks with our children about the correct way to respond when faced head-on with law enforcement. This poem is a talk with myself confronting the pain I feel realizing black and brown people are still treading the deep, murky waters of racism and discrimination in America.

Biography

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Faye Turner-Johnson is a graduate of UM-Flint with BA degrees in Theater and Elementary Education. Early on she wanted to be a singer, but never quite developed a voice that would take her beyond her bathroom shower. After her retirement from teaching, she has again turned to theater and writing to ‘sing’ her songs of protest and dismay. Her work has appeared in the Five-Two, Sky Island Journal, Whirlwind Magazine, Lift Every Voice (An Anthology of Poetry) and other publications. She has completed a chapbook, “A Voice Speaking Out,” which she is currently submitting for publication.
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ISSN 2639-426X
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