I held my Son and wondered
when I’m going to teach him how to swim
in a world that wants to drown him and blame it on the sunshine.
I held my son and drew a mental image–
etched a sketched sorrow and visions of agony
a parent should never have to experience in any nightmare.
I held my son and prayed
to a God that I don’t know how to speak to
without letting the shade rest heavily in my eyes and heart.
I held my son and sent love
to the souls that will never know the warmth
of embers of the firestorms of their own creation.
I held my son and mourned
because america only knows how to make adults
out of babies and children who have not yet learned the importance of dreams.
Durell Carter is a teacher and a poet based out of Oklahoma. He recently graduated from the University of Central Oklahoma with a degree in Literature. He has work published in Fauxmoir, Drunk Monkeys, Promethus Dreaming, and other publications. See Durell in issues Eleven. WEB