A Letter to My Husband I wrote in my sleep…

(and to all the Black men that I care for).

I had a terrible dream last night. I went to visit you (I don’t know WHY I didn’t live with you in my dream…) But maybe because this was a nightmare. I went by your house and just as I saw your sweet face coming to meet me at the door, you were attacked. Vicious Nazis took you and worked to put you in handcuffs and cart you away. And I tried to run behind and help… bargain… reason with them. But they were the worst kind of criminal. They wanted nothing BUT to hurt you. So nothing I said was going to satisfy them. They shot me in the leg so I wouldn’t follow along and dragged you off kicking and screaming promising to do the most hurtful things to you. And I felt so powerless… so hopeless…

Until I woke up.

And now as I lay here caressing the dark chocolate silk that is your skin and breathing in your cocoa butter essence as you sleep peacefully with dreams of new horizons, I beg of you… take care. In these last few days we’ve been given reason to feel empowered beyond belief, finally respected and revered and almost indestructible. I don’t want to rain on parades but please remember that the most powerful man in the world being a black man does NOT MEAN that the world loves black people now. Actually? this series of happenings have infuriated some people from a position of pissing and moaning to quiet action. Never in the light of day because they know what they do is evil and never overtly because they won’t want to call attention to themselves as they work their malignant plans into motion.

Continue to hold up the light. Be extraordinary. Be proud. Be exemplary.


I can’t replace you… I don’t want to. You’re all that I have.

I love you.


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