-for Sybrina Fulton, mother of Trayvon Martin.
When he asked her how she would know her son’s scream from someone else’s,
mothers everywhere lost our collective breath.
We know, when our son is the one who falls down on the playground
and his wail sounds above the play screams and laughter of other children.
We know, when that same scream wakes us in the night
because a nightmare has wrapped him up in terror and only we can help.
We know, even when that scream somehow travels on the wind,
even when time has passed since we kissed things better.
We would know it on the phone, or on tv or in any other way that it met our ears
that it is his and that he needs us.
And, no matter how many times she hears the screams he screams,
just before he was murdered,
I know, her instinct is to run to him
to comfort him
and to tell him he’s going to be all right.
blue sky infinite 